Finding Why's
by B. A. Ware
Summary: Harry must have been lonely while living at the Dursley's. What if he wished a friend and it worked? "Inquisitive, unconventional Harry. Lots of humour" like someone said. Writing gets better later on, said another. In the end H/Hr, some N/L.
1. A slightly confusing prologue

OK, everyone knows this one. Sing along if you want to, just like in Hogwart's you decide the melody.

I don't own Harry Potter, never really did.  
J.K Rowling didn't share with me, not one bit.  
So I thought I'll write some, just to fool around.  
I say it again, that world isn't mine.  
I'll write it anyway, I want my work look good.  
That won't win with her owning it, nothing really could.

* * *

What is the meaning of life?

Most people don't approach that question throughout their lives. Just like few are interested in studying philosophy and unraveling the mysteries of the universe. The truth is, the bulk of population is content with going about their daily lives.

Buth that's only possible because everyone already knows. Each and every person instinctively know what is most precious in life. Just like we all have our own life philosophies, sets of rules, codes of honour. All that without anyone ever asking one philosophical question.

Much of that is due to parents, explaining basic facts of life and showing you how to percieve the world. Some of it comes with the rebellious phase, when you start seeing though all those half truths you've heard before, and make your own mistakes in order to find your own way of living. Your friends, your teachers, movies you see and books you read. Everything you come in contact with, in one way or another, adds up to your world view, your mindset – your personal philosophy.

But what if you didn't have that?

What if you found yourself in this world without anyone to look up to, and nothing to treat as your own?

Harry Potter didn't have to ponder what that kind of life would look like, for the simple reason that he lived such a life.

The first the world saw of him was just a baby wrapped in blankets, left on a doorstep with nothing to prove he existed, other than a letter written in a mysterious green ink. After that, he vanished from sight just as suddenly as he appeared, kept under the watch of his aunt and uncle, and punished for anything and everything.

His school wasn't that much more fulfilling. Teachers rarely spared him a glance because of his low grades, which no amount of talking with his relatives helped, or all the troubles happening with him in the centre. Of course, who could have known that his homework was largely influenced by all the chores he had to do around the house, or him being locked in his cupboard as a punishment for another thing Dudley managed to pin the blame for on him. For instance, all those nasty accidents that made Harry to be friendless for as long as he could remember.

That was the world Harry Potter lived in. Without any adults he could look up to. No friends he could complain to. Even without anything he could call his own, as all of his earthly possessions were hand-me-downs from Dudley, and some of the broken toys he managed to scavenge.

That's why throughout most of his early life Harry simply did as he was told. He learned the hard way that it would do him no good to raise his voice, as no one would listen to a child. Especially not his relatives, who would simply punish him for even opening his mouth.

But while on the outside it seemed that he had nothing to share, what was in his mind was entirely different story.

Even with all children being different, the way that a young mind works is relatively universal. Childish curiosity and the need to ask questions, those sharp eyes watching every move of the adults, and that deep and instinctual need to belong.

From his youngest years, Harry couldn't understand why he was the one constantly singled out. So, while his peers wondered why the sky was blue or if the moon could possibly be made of cheese, he asked himself: Why? Why me? What have I done this time to deserve this?

And without any answer, even the vaguest "You'll know in time" coming his way, Harry took it upon himself to learn what really was important, and what he could do better to deserve the attention of his relatives.

But like stated earlier, he had no one who would be his guide in this journey. He didn't have that small voice in the back of his head telling him "wash your hands before dinner", or "take your scarf. It's cold outside."

His mind was blank and unmolded in any way. And while everyone seemed to pass him by, treating him as air, he observed them very closely. Using his sharp eyes, he noticed all those little details, simple things people try to hide away under the facades of their life. Those little white lies. Places where people stepped over the line. Moral dilemmas of everyday life.

He didn't pick one thing as the ultimate truth, but took everything in as it was, and tried to think of resons for their existence, rather than argue why they canceled themselves out. Thus, "You should play nice," the children heard so much, and "It's not so simple" that was mentioned during disturbing times stood right next ot eachoter. Just like "Listen to other people," and "No excuses."

And while doing it, he constantly tried to find something which would answer it all. Was it a matter of truth? Being right over being wrong? Constant battle of good versus evil? Or simply a matter of necessity...

He watched, remembered everything he saw and learned from it. In time, he became adept in reading people. How simple things could state life-long dreams, or personal defeats.

Early on he became aware of just how little information was passed through verbal means, and it wasn't long before he could call out a type of person observing only how they walked. How some people strode towards their goal, with others being only a background for their march, and crowds unconciously parted to give them way. Or how, even when couple of people made their way in a crowd, you could still tell that they were a group.

He opened his mind to the movement in the world, the constant dance of seemingly irrevelant elements, and those subtle tones that most people missed.

But no matter how much time he spent on his studies, it didn't help him decide what the most important thing really was in all of it. Whose goals were more noble, and what was the proper path to achieving them.

And it was during one of his musing sessions – his favourite pastime while being locked in his cupboard after yet another thing he did wrong – while being seriously sleep-deprived and not having anything satiating to eat in quite a while came the time that he stated it outright.

'I just wish I had someone who would explain it all.' Harry thought to himself, finally feeling his fatigue.

Before his eyes closed of their own accord he became aware of someone sitting at the end of his mattress, hugging legs and chin on knees.

'Well, I'm delusional now. Hope for being normal died today,' he thought with a bitter laugh. 'Will have to note this date as "The End"' he joked with a yawn, too tired to be bothered with thinking just how serious his condition was. Even before the sentence fully ran through his mind, he was fast asleep.

"It isn't the end," whispered Harry's guest, watching the sleeping boy curiously. "Just a slight transition".

* * *

AN: Here I come straight from the future... Wow, it's seems such a long time since I started this story. And finally came the time to slowly rewrite all the crappy parts I called writing when I didn't have a clue what to do.

Give a great applause to The Bitter Kitten who is smacking me over the head with a rolled newspaper for all the stupid mistakes I made in the past. " :3 ", she says.


	2. Magie

You don't want to hear it twice, trust me. I am not that good to sing that song again. Once was painful enough, but since it has to be said, maybe I'll try this.

A lawyer of J. K. Rowling walks up to me with a lawsuit regarding my story and says:  
"I am Sprite, you are Thirst." And I know better than to say otherwise.

* * *

It was quiet and peaceful evening on the normal-looking street of Privet Drive in Little Whinging, Surrey. Well, if a street where everything looks exactly the same is normal. And it would be a quiet and peaceful if not for inhabitants of house number four on said street, talking quite animatedly, raised voices included, with their guests about trauma their kids endured on today's trip to the zoo. Reason for said trauma: escaped boa constrictor.

The main point of this debate was who to blame for it. But, in spite of all the names adults in the living room would point the blame to, a boy locked in the cupboard knew that he wouldn't hear the end of it from his relatives. And he was using his situation to tell about it, in as many details that he could, to his own guest.

At least, he was trying.

"Magie, why did you remove that glass?" he asked, giving a tired sigh. It usually ended like this. Him wanting to be angry with her, but she proving to him that it was completely futile.

"Dudley wanted to see that snake up close, so I thought I could help," said the girl resting in her usual position. Sitting on the end of the mattress, hugging her legs and with her chin on her knees.

"Then why put it back?" he knew he wouldn't get any straight answers while she stayed playful.

He was proven right.

"Because if you borrow something, then you should put it back where it belongs."She said it like it was some kind of old family motto, underlined with respect and not a small hint of its greatness. She tried to straighten her posture to further the act, but it was hard as her back was pressed against the underside of the stairs. He could only smile at her antics.

"Come on Harry, I know that you enjoyed that one as much as I did," she finally stated, loosing all the appearances of being sorry.

"Well, as fun as it was, now I am locked in here and probably won't be out for quite some time." he replied, dragging the blame game just a little longer.

"You can be such a whiner some times Harry, you know that, right?" she asked, rolling her eyes at him. "It's not like we aren't by ourselves most of the 'll just have more time to talk, and I'll bring you food like I always do. It won't be so bad. But now get some sleep, it's getting late."

"Yes, mum," Harry smiled sweetly, which gained him mock glare from her. Sometimes he thought that her moods were contagious.

"If you wake up in a mood as good as that, what would you say to me bringing someone to get the fun going along with breakfast? How about Odis and Desi?"

"No, you wouldn't!"said the horror-struck boy." Anyone but those two. You might be playful but you do nothing compared to them. Even Nessie is better company."

"Good to see that I still have something to hold over you when you misbehave." she told him with a slight smirk.

Harry snorted at that, but at the same time he had to acknowledge that it was true. Even with her appearance being that of a girl his age and all the strange things she did, it was she that played the responsible one. She took care of him, what with all the things she did for him. That in itself gave her the right to wave her finger at him. But being herself, she couldn't even be serious about that.

"Now sleep", she said with finality, reacheding her hand out and scratched his head. He liked when she did that. It always made him relaxed and calm. When he opened his eyes for a second, she wasn't there, so he laid back and waited for sleep to take him.

At first it was hard for him to adjust to having an "imaginary friend". Especially in a form of a girl looking approximately his age with sky blue eyes and hair colour stuck right between light brown and dark blond, making it impossible to tell which she really had. Nevertheless, they talked and got to know each other, as even as she would appear to be creation of his imagination, she had history of her own. Magie would tell him stories about the place where she stayed when she wasn't with him and people who lived there - Nessie, Odis and Desi to name a few. He tried to do the same, but that topic ran out quickly and he mostly spoke of his thoughts about certain things.

Magie stopped being an imaginary friend by definition when she started to interact with her surroundings, even if only he could see why certain things happened. Mirages don't do that, right? Well, she could. First noticeable thing that she did was to bring him real food in his cupboard, not leftovers like the Dursleys gave him. And when his relatives went out of town and didn't get back as fast as they planned, leaving him locked away without couple of meals... Well, that was where real fun started.

Earlier, those moments were trials of sorts. Full of doubts and a sense of powerlessness, leaving him to question everything and everyone. Even himself. With her, however, those days where he knew for sure that there was no one around changed into his private holidays. They could do as they pleased without worrying about being interrupted. Talk for hours on end about anything at all. Even the simple meals that she brought seemed to be picnics or parties of their own. All of that in the confines of his cupboard which seemed to be a lot larger than it ever could be.

From the moment she appeared she would always aid him when he needed it, as with that escape from Dudley's gang that somehow ended on school's roof.

In time she would bring others so he wouldn't get bored or just someone who could help with a problem that he was contemplating. She would appear and go at her leisure but even when he couldn't see her, Harry knew that she was still somewhere around.

He could be happy like this if not for everyone else blaming him for all the things that happened. He couldn't complain much because firstly, complaining in this house wouldn't gain him much more than additional trouble, and secondly, telling people that it was caused by an imaginary friend wasn't really an option. Besides, it wasn't like he wasn't blamed for everything before. He had to admit that now it was more bizarre than before, but at least he had someone to share it with.

And so, days following the zoo trip were spent on talking and goofing around in "their little world". Because even if Harry couldn't go wherever he wanted or do what he would like to, or perhaps because of it, he could go by living on little things, like a decent sandwich now and then or small talk with someone. Especially if it was someone like her.

When finally he was let out, he was welcomed with a mile-long list of chores and a feeling that his relatives hadn't exactly missed him while he was away.

His mental preparations for a long, hard day were instantly thwarted by Magie. But he should have been expecting that.

Her first order of business was a diatribe from the top of the kitchen table about their wrong doings that topped the actual Riot Act.

When she finished and noticed the lack of response from the Dursleys, she went on by acting like them, mimicing their voices, and miming their behavior, while giving a running commentary on what complete imbeciles they were. Even thick-headed people without patience to run out of (like Vernon) would be impressed by her stamina and considering she was at most eleven years old, this was quite a feat.

The only person who could see her was Harry, and at the moment he was doing everything possible to hide his amusement. The only thing that saved him from laughing out loud was his uncle sending him for the post.

But as he picked through the mail his mind went blank when he became aware that he was holding a letter addressed to him. Dazed, he automatically went to kitchen and quickly found himself without his letter and under a barrage of questions that ended when adults noticed what was written on the envelope. In his total confusion, Harry saw Magie staring at the letter with a pensive look on her face.

The next days were a blur of letters flooding the house like tidal waves, each one always bigger than the one before, mixed with a mad uncle whose anger increased with the amount of post. Even when he was allowed to have the smallest bedroom and later taken on a trip to nowhere, he couldn't comprehend what would make his uncle this worked up. This was a passing thought, however, as he was concerned with why his friend wouldn't speak to him about the letters.

As he was laying on the cold floor, he wasn't expecting to hear "Happy birthday, Harry".

He looked up and saw Magie perched on the windowsill, looking out into the stormy night.

"Is it today?" he whispered, not really that excited about the fact.

"It's close to midnight so let's say that it already is. How could you forget about your birthday?" she asked, throwing him an annoyed look over her shoulder, agitated that he really didn't care.

"Had other things on my mind lately." he replied, and even though she went back to staring at the stormy sea, he caught her faint smile.

"Go on, make a wish." she said. And even though he knew she meant it, he coud tell that she wasn't sure about something.

'I wish I could know what's troubling her.' Harry thought. It was the same thing that bothered him when the first letter came.

'You can.' was a reply in his thoughts, but before he could check if he imagined it, the door was blown open and biggest man Harry ever saw entered the room.

"Sorry about that, meant to knock." The man was looking straight at Harry. He picked up the door like it was nothing and started to put them back in the door frame.

"Well, you did knock it down, I think that counts." Harry replied, out of habit he aquired by spending his time with Magie. Nowadays, whenever he didn't know what to say, he simply said the first thing that came to his head. A nonsensical statement like that usually did a nice job at preventing that uncomfortable silence.

"Very funny, Harry." was the reply from the giant that was trying to make the door stay in frame against the wind trying to blow it inside.

Some may say that when a person the size of a small hill destroys a doorway, it's terrifying. Well, yes, a man that size would be capable of wrestling a bear or two, not saying what he could do to humans. But if said person then apologizes and proceeds to fix the damage, it's only shocking at most.

But there had to be someone to be shocked by it, and Dursleys were too miserable to even be conscious of it. With the thunderstorm outside, there was enough loud noise like waves crashing against the shore, wind blowing against the walls making them creak, and thunder sounding throughout the air, that the door slamming against the floor didn't make that much difference. With all the cracks and holes in the hut, the temperature inside wasn't that much different than outside; the inside was only less damp and windy. A small gust of air didn't do much more than make inhabitants of the hut bury themselves deeper under what they were covered with. All in all, the appearance of this hill-sized man wasn't that much of a emergency.

Harry (who was the only one to notice the giant) wasn't concerned, as he thought that this was another one of Magie's friends. That would at least explain how this someone already knew his name. But after a quick glance towards the windowsill and noticing that she wasn't there, that train of thought stopped, as she would always be with them. Still, the man seemed friendly enough, so there was no point to being afraid for the time being. Truth be told, Harry couldn't notice anything about the man that would hint that he was in any kind of danger.

"Since you know my name, can I ask who are you and where do you know me from?" Harry asked in the end.

Finally putting the door back on the hinges, the man turned and looked at him again.

"Ah, I forgot to introduce myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, but call me Hagrid, everyone does. And I know you, because you look just like your father. Except your eyes, they're your mother's."

"You knew my parents?" Harry asked, sitting upright at the revelation. With the Dursleys any questions at all were bad, but anything regarding his parents was particularly sensitive subject.

"Sure did, while they were at Hogwart's and after. Which reminds me." Hagrid reached into his coat and handed him the letter which by was all too familiar."And," he added, raising his finger to show that there was more. This time it was slightly squashed box."Might have sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right. Happy birthday."

"Thank you," the boy replied, smiling at the pleasant surprise in the form of a small birthday cake. The very first birthday cake in his life.

"I'll make some tea. It's terribly cold in here."

Hagrid went to the fireplace, started a fire and went to make tea and something to eat, nearly squashing Dudley while sitting on the couch. Startled by the manner in which he was awakened, boy went for cover to his parents room, screaming his head off along the way. That in turn made his parents running from their bed to look what was wrong. It just so happened that they collided in the doorway, making Vernon pull the trigger of the rifle he was holding and fire it into the much-abused wall. Said wall had enough and went to rest on the floor, knocking the Dursleys out cold, providing them with several hours of sleep more than they would normally have, and aches and pains for a couple of days.

But Harry didn't pay attention to any of this. Not the warmth from the fireplace, smell of food, or the scene that his relatives were causing. His mind was focused on the letter. Mainly what things written in it meant.

'This is a joke...' was his first thought before his logic kicked in on it's own. 'No, that's unlikely. It would be stupid if someone someone sent all those letters and now Hagrid just to have fun out of someone as unimportant as me. Maybe someone is looking to have something out of this. But as I don't have anything to offer... Then there are witches and wizards. They might have been since Merlin or earlier, but it's safe to assume they are here long enough for some people to be capable of teaching. Most likely they're hidden. Someone believe that I can do, or learn to do it too. But everything like that is Magie's thing. She does funny stuff.'

'Only if you want me to.' replied that voice from before.

Harry started to look around to see where his friend could be. He noticed the fallen wall with legs sticking out from underneath. Seein that, he couldn't help but to chuckle a bit.

'Cold,' came the clue where to look for her, and that she was playful again.

Then he looked to Hagrid who was pouring water to a teapot from a copper kettle.

'Warmer,' Magie continued to enjoy her time.

He turned and looked at the window that she was reclining by before Hagrid's entry. Instead of her, he saw himself in the glass. With the stormy night behind it, it acted like a mirror.

'Disco,' she called like if he had won something. He froze, staring at his reflection in the uneven glass. Because he knew her enough to know that the way she said it could mean only one thing. That the glass he was staring at was indeed her hiding place.

Bewildered, he stared at his reflection. Usually he would think of what it meant, or how could have he missed it all this time. But right now he simply didn't know where to start.

'Oh, come on. Don't act like you didn't know it was something like this. After all I started as an imaginary friend,' she commented with a laugh.

'You're in my head?' was the first question that popped into Harry's mind, stunned by the sudden revelation.

'If you want to say that I'm part of you, then yes I am.' she said, not bothered in the least by the strange manner they were talking in. Well, from the moment he met her, she hadn't been bothered by anything at all.

'And you knew this all along?' he asked, getting over the shock and slowly getting used to the situation.

'No. Remember when you first saw me?'

'Thought you were a hallucination from lack of food,' The memory of their first meeting made him smile.

'Well, before that I felt... forgotten. Didn't really know where, or even what I was, just that I was omitted. There wasn't that much beside a sort of calling from time to time. Then I had an odd feeling: I thought I would cease to be at all. But then I found myself in your cupboard. I didn't really know what was going on, but I felt connected to you. And despite what you're thinking, I can't read your thoughts,' she said. Harry snorted with laughter.

'Well, that didn't come out well,' she continued after a while, 'But what I meant was that in spite of the way we are talking, my connection to you tells me what you needed or intended to do. Then I simply do what I can to help, be it some food, getting you out of harm's way, or lightening your mood when you felt like you could use it.'

Even though he couldn't see her, he could tell that she shrugged right there, as if it weren't all that big of a deal.

'Well, then how do you know that you're a part of me?' he asked, wanting to explore this unexpected side of their friendship.

'First of all, I am only able to be myself, if you know what I mean, around you. And for the most part, that place I told you about, where I'm staying. When I get tired, or you're busy with something I don't help you with, I go to where I was before. Since I know things now, I started to put them there because it would be difficult to live in nothing at all. I made my own house, forest, lake... well, you heard all about the place where I live. But in time others would come, and watching them and you, I came to conclusion that you take the "wandering thoughts" phrase too far. I might have something to do with it but you know the results.'

'So, everyone I've met...' Harry started the conclusion she was leading him towards, but honestly, he had no idea what to say.

'They're your thoughts. Well, that isn't exactly true. They are a manifestation of your thinking categories, or something like that,' Magie came to his rescue.

'Thinking categories?' he asked, laughing a little at the best way she found to describe it.

'Well, stereotypes doesn't seem to be the right word. Each of them is a state of mind. Let's start with our favourites. The twins started as anything that would seem odd, but as there was more and more of it, they became odds. They would always remind you that there was another way to do things.'

'Well, Odis and Desi sure can come up with what you want to do, just not the way you would expect anyone to act.' he agreed with a nod.

'They were the main reason I knew that I was somewhere that is close to you, as anything that you would trouble your mind with was main point of mischief they caused. Then there is Marvin, our pessimist; Merin, with his delusions of grandeur; Nessie, I don't have to tell you she's weird. I could count out for days, because there is quite a lot of them in here.'

'And that would make you my... magic?' he asked, barely believing it himself.

'It would seem so. But I don't know how to feel about it.' Until this point, she was in her storytelling mode, but this was said with more restraint.

'Why?' Harry asked simply, not knowing what had upset her so suddenly. As a matter of fact, he didn't know what would upset her at all.

'When I came, all you really wanted was to be "normal", what with those people you're living with. You accepted me as a friend and that was fine. But the more I suspected the more I didn't like the day that you wouldn't want me any more, because normal people don't see things...' she said, leaving it hanging.

Harry didn't know how to reply to that. From purely logical point of view, what she was saying was true. But logic without practice got you as far as a theoretical proof without a practical application. Still, was he really that simple-minded? He shook his head, returning his attention back to Magie when she spoke again.

'And when that letter came, I got a feeling, something familiar so I wasn't scared. But I knew that it would be important, and that got me worried. If you would learn something you were unprepared to, it could end sooner that I would want it to.' The longer she talked, the softer she spoke, until it wasn't much more than a whisper.

'Beside the point that you are a part of me and would stay even if I didn't want you to, why would I want my best friend gone? You're fun and playful when I need to relax, but right to the point when something needs to be done. We could spend all day and not get bored, even if it's just talking. Well we did spend days like that. And your friends, though a eclectic bunch, are a plus too.'

'Maybe I do those things because you need me to be like that?' If he didn't know better he'd think that she was embarrassed by what he said, but he felt that she was still worried.

'Well, considering that you spend all that time with my thoughts, or the like, you really don't know how I think do you?' Now she knew he was playful, which seemed to calm her more than anything he could say.

'Git.' was her reply, though she was just a little too happy about it for it to be an insult.

"Harry, you want something to eat? Sausages almost ready," Hagrid yelled from the couch, and they both acknowledged it as a proper time to end their conversation.

'Well, let's go learn something more about this new world.' Harry thought as he stepped away from the window and made his way to the offered food.

The rest of the time before they went to sleep was filled with Hagrid telling Harry's story. To lighten the mood, Hagrid told him all about Hogwart's, what to expect on Diagon Alley (where they would be shopping next day), and pretty much everything that came to his mind, with stories of Harry's parents being the majority. All accompanied with sausages, tea and slightly squashed birthday cake.

* * *

AN. Instead of a full rewrite I decided that fixing all the stupid mistakes and adding some new scenes is a much better solution. I know that it could be even better, but I like the idea that this story shows how my writing improved over time.

And yes, The Bitter Kitten is still keeping watch. As a personal morale boost, I'm proud to announce that there weren't as many "What were you thinking?" notes in this chapter as there were in the first one.


	3. A shopping spree that never happened

I step into a bar after being announced by my guards as a supreme being, ruler of all mankind, owner of Harry Potter-

Bartender: Is this some kind of a joke?

Unfortunately for me, it is.

* * *

Everyone has a routine of his own.

Routine behaviour differs from person to person. You may like laying in front of a TV all day long, or being dropped into the jungle with nothing more than a knife once or twice a month. Whatever lifestyle you are living, your routine has to presume certain things. Because even thinking that you will take a shower before work, you are taking for granted that there will be running water the next morning.

That is why most people do not like sudden changes.

It is hard to break your routine, whether you are aware of it or not. Something unexpected can be enough to make people panic, since their usual responses suddenly stop working. Standing in a long line when you are in a hurry is enough to throw most people off balance, simply because of the unexpected delay.

Given that kind of reaction to small changes, it is no wonder that major revelations simply cannot be introduced easily. Aliens, or in this case magic, existing in the world would turn modern life as we know it upside down, and people would become hysterical trying to figure out what it meant. Confusion, frustration, fear and anger would lead to mass panic and riots, while people would protest at such a blatant disruption of their previously steady lives.

But those are regular people. Harry Potter on the other hand didn't even bat an eye.

Spending so much time with Magie and her friends, he had enough opportunities to observe just what kind of behaviour can pass as 'regular'. Upbringing, culture, beliefs and sometimes even the situation-it all adds up, forming the feeling of being normal, and behaving the right way.

Being confronted with such a dazzling revelation, Harry kept an open mind. Strolling behind Hagrid like a shadow he was throughout most of his life, he refused to let even the smallest detail elude him while he made a mental list of all the things acceptable in this new social group.

When they arrived at the pub known as the Leaky Cauldron, Harry did not stay by Hagrid's side for long, placing himself in a shadowed corner from which he could observe all the wizards and witches mingling about.A burst of green flames caught his eye, and he ventured further, watching people appear from a seemingly empty fireplace.

"You shouldn't be wandering around, Harry," Hagrid's voice came from behind. Harry turned to see that the giant just finished his talk with the bartender. "You might get lost," the man added, watching him with his merry eyes.

"Then I'll just look around," Harry replied with a smile of his own. "It's somewhat hard to lose sight of you, isn't it?" That made giant chuckle.

Harry watched Hagrid for a while, and could not understand how it was that he could pass as a regular person while in the muggle world. As a matter of fact, how could any of the wizards present in the pub, Harry wondered, as he looked at all the mismatched clothes people around him wore. That only led him back to his previous observation.

"Is this how wizards travel?" he asked, turning back to the hearth just in time to see another wizard dusting off his robes.

"Among others," Hagrid replied with a nod. "But we better be off, we have lots of things to do."

Harry had wondered about the hidden district in the middle of the London when he first heard of it, but had to do a double take when he saw the sheer size of it. He was dazzled by the concept of doing something of that magnitude, especially in modern times of ever-growing computerisation, when invisible eyes high up in the sky could watch every inch of the planet.

Still, he could not figure out if what he saw was being done by folding space to form a bubble accessible only by that small gateway behind a dingy pub, or simply confounding anyone who thought about the fact that there was a major chunk of London inaccessible to non-wizards.

Harry shook his head at that, knowing that he could not find an answer right now. Immediately, a mental list of things he would want to research in the future appeared in his mind, taking its place among others like it.

Stepping into the alley itself, Harry froze. While entertaining the idea of a magical world, he had not imagined a fairytale land with mythical creatures lurking behind every corner. Still, nothing he ever thought of prepared him for the picture that met his eyes.

He saw a woman complaining about prices going up in the apothecary, and boys staring at brooms in a way their muggle counterparts would stare at new racing bikes. Everywhere he looked, all that he could see was a street filled with a variety of stores, and people doing their daily shopping.

He could not help but smile to himself, thinking that it did not feel strange or awkward at all. It was not like being sent into space, or stepping through some wacky portal and arriving in another dimension. It was just like visiting another country, with new things, items, food, and spices, or simply new names to old things. Well, he had never been abroad, so he could not know for sure, but if he had to guess, this would be it.

Shaking his head, Harry simply smiled again, thinking just how normal it all felt as he followed Hagrid through the thick crowd.

* * *

Gringotts, the wizarding bank run by goblins, on the other hand, was just like it had been taken from a muggle fairy tale. A really bad one.

Mean-looking creatures forcing you to wait in endless lines, sending to different windows, giving you hundreds of forms to fill. And if you eventually got to state your business, they would glare at you from behind their counters just waiting for you to make some stupid mistake that would make the process void, which would force you to start all over again.

There was nothing like taking the muggle view of bureaucracy and giving it its proper, ugly form.

But aside from thinking up jokes about the situation he found himself in while he waited beside Hagrid for one of the tellers to be available, he thought about what he had seen of goblins so far.

Even while joking about them, Harry didn't think badly of them. They did their job swiftly and efficiently, which always was a good thing if you asked him, and was good enough reason for their limited social interactions. On the other hand, Harry couldn't help but to notice the barely hidden disdain wizards were emanating.

It seemed that, like with many other things, goblins got bad reputation because of the rumours spread about them, more than anything they truly did.

That thought only made him think back to the poem written on the inner doors of the bank. There are many treasures in this world, but few of them are made of gold. Harry knew that, and he immediately caught onto what the poem was hinting at.

Respect.

You will never get it if you do not earn it. It is not something you can demand from someone. The only way it could work is if you show, by example, that your way is truly better. Seeing wizards, with how they spoke to the goblins, and only that, it was no wonder that their relations were strained. If Harry had to guess, the hidden hostility did not stop at that.

He was startled from his thoughts when another goblin came to escort them to the vaults. What he saw after stepping out of the main floor of the bank only reassured Harry that his first assessment was true. Seeing Griphook change his stance ever so slightly showed just how much more comfortable he was while stepping on the earth itself. All the marble and stone in the main hall had to be for the visitors, wizards, who didn't appreciate the hand that was extended towards them.

Harry mulled it over while he enjoyed the first rollercoaster ride of his life. With the dazzling speed came the utter befuddlement that he felt before, caused by the fact that the magical world could spread so far and still remain unnoticed.

The cart stopped, the doors to his vault were opened, and a mountain of gold lay in front of him.

"All yours," smiled Hagrid.

Harry just stood there, looking at all the gold piled in the vault. He knew how this usually worked. A kid gets loads of money and goes on a shopping spree to buy all the things he was denied till that point.

Sadly, or fortunately if you asked him, he did not find any value in the coins lying in front of him.

Dudley being showered with gifts showed him plenty of times just how little money could give, if it was used wrong. Even Uncle Vernon, always trying to impress his guest by buying some sort of a gadget which then ended up gathering dust on a shelf in the garage or the attic. Truly, the smallest bedroom, which Dudley used to keep his old toys in, really was not the only place in the house filled with junk. And each and every single piece showed him just what spending money on the first thing in sight gave you.

Absolutely nothing.

Need. Now that is something worth taking care of. Only if he really needed something would the scraps of metal lying in front of him would mean anything. But he was not a needy person, something he had learned while living at the Dursleys. Harry could work with what he had on hand, or improvise something from scratch. There were very few things he truly needed to be happy.

Well, he needed his school supplies, but that would be taken care of soon enough, seeing how Hagrid had already piled some coins into a money bag.

A soft tap on his shoe caught Harry's attention. He looked down, and noticed a single Knut lying by his shoe, most likely having rolled there when Hagrid disturbed one of the piles. Harry bent down, picked it up, and cleaned the layer of dust and earth from it.

"Right, I think we're done here," Hagrid announced, weighting the pouch in his hand. He turned, only to stop when he saw Harry standing there, stroking an old battered coin almost lovingly.

"This should be enough for couple of terms," Hagrid said, showing him the pouch, "We'll keep the rest safe in here."

"Even though it is my parent's money, this coin is the first one I can really call my own," Harry said almost absentmindedly, "It would be unwise to pass on a thing as important as this, wouldn't it?" he added, grasping the coin firmly in his palm when he exited the vault, making Hagrid frown and a pair of goblin ears twitch at his words.

They visited one more vault, but Harry did not even leave the cart for this one. A super secret assignment Hagrid had to take care of. The less he knew about it, the better he would sleep at night.

Most of people would have liked to know about it; dig their claws into it and scratch for all the juicy informations they could get. Most people were stupid throughout most of their lives, too.

As long as the matter at hand didn't involve him, Harry was comfortable with leaving people's private lives private. And without that feeling that everything happening around had to immediately be all about him, all that effort to seek out the reliable information, having to deal with scraps of data, and act without seeing the full picture, was simply too messy to be considered. Harry learned long time ago that keeping to your own business, and only dealing with troubles you really had to deal with, made one's life so much simpler.

* * *

Stepping back into the Diagon Alley, Harry had a better understanding of the tight security Hagrid mentioned to him before. Endless maze-like tunnels filled with protective charms, and even vicious creatures like dragons guarding the place. All of that was well and good, but Harry finally understood why goblins kept all that animosity aimed at wizards.

"Never mess with a goblin," Hagrid told him at the end of his speech about the protections within the Gringotts' walls. Somehow, whether he liked it or not, his consciousness decided that even with all the traps you could stumble upon while searching for the vault, a single goblin would be far worse.

It made sense in a business where fear was far more important than respect. All the traps and protections were fine and well, but what really stopped most people was the fear of the unknown. "They'll steal your children," people whispered in the deep of the night. Goblins only replied with a toothy grin that said that wizards did not even know the half of it.

The Goblins found the ultimate solution. They allowed all the wizards to stop themselves from even thinking about theft. A man's mind filled the gaps, detailing all the heinous things that would be done to them if they stepped out of line, while goblins themselves simply went about their work. Harry smiled at that, immediately liking the little hardworking creatures.

He liked them even more after he met the first pureblood wizard his age.

Hagrid needed a longer break after the cart ride, so Harry went into the robe shop on his own. Having his school robes fitted at Madam Malkin's was the first time that Harry had been in a clothes shop that did that for a customer. Truth be told, it was the first time he had been in a clothes shop of any kind.

He watched the steady hand of the Seamstress as she did her job, trying to learn something that could be useful later on when he tried to make Dudley's old clothes more wearable. All in all, a quite fascinating visit had been spoiled by the boy on the next stool, yammering on and on like his voice was the most important thing in the world.

Harry didn't pay attention. It only took him a second to realize the type. He had not done anything productive in his life, his parents having done most things for him. Certain that he was the most important thing in the world because he got his every whim catered to. Stuck up. Spoiled. Dudley's type.

Once again Harry was reminded that everything has flaws. There was no gain without pain, as some people said. And he supposed this was it, when he thought of the unkind mention of the muggleborns he had caught. If he had to guess, medieval times still had their hold on this group, and the line of nobility still was followed even to the modern day.

Harry sighed. Being an imbecile sometimes wasn't enough. Some people had to have titles to make it official. He would need to keep an eye out for things that might be bothersome later on. Right now, he just gave some half muttered assurances that he was listening intently, as to not interrupt the monologue beside him, until the boy's exclamation torn Harry from his thoughts.

"I say, look at that man!"Harry turned, only to notice Hagrid standing in front of Madam Malkin's, holding two ice-creams to show that he could not come in. "What about him?" Harry asked absentmindedly, returning to what he was doing.

"What would he want in this shop?"the boy asked with a clearly displeased face.

"I don't know, but perhaps a new set of clothes, or something like that," Harry commented, making it seem that, even to himself, the idea was inconceivable.

"Wait, isn't that the man who lives on the school grounds?" the boy asked, and continued without waiting for a response. "I heard of him. He's the imbecile that can't do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed. Complete moron. You'd have to be to do what he does. Go into the forest and deal with all those animals-" he commented with a sneer.

"Oh, yes," Harry agreed with the air of superiority the other boy was so familiar with, "because a fat boar or a deer on a table just isn't what people want. I agree that we should stick with the cabbage," he said in a 'what were they thinking' manner.

The other boy stopped at that, staring at Harry, clearly having trouble deciding if he should take that statement as stupidly favourable, or wittily offensive. Luckily, Harry was spared from having to explain just how misguided rich people could be when Madam Malkin stated that he was ready to go.

He left the shop without sparing another glance at the boy. And even if Harry did not pay him any more attention, all that he noticed so far had been already stored in his memory. He would be on the lookout for the type of the character the boy had, with its arrogance, presumptions and all the prejudice that it was filled with.

* * *

There is something magical in every single old style cafe. And it does not need to be run by a wizard to be that way. By simply stepping inside, you are transported into a completely different place. New, yet familiar. Warm and inviting. Somewhere where you can simply sit, sip your drink, and clear your head. Even if you are separated only by a small fence, or even nothing at all, from a busy street filled with people.

That was where Harry sat, having gotten quite comfortable in the seats right outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. It seemed like a proper place to eat the ice cream Hagrid bought. Besides, it was a fine place to take a break from his bothersome habit of watching everything. Instead, to break with the monotony of people's lives he saw even here, he had to do something completely different.

Simply said, he decided to have a staring match... with an owl.

His bright green eyes stared unblinkingly into the amber eyes of the bird sitting right in front of him. She was a birthday present from Hagrid, but Harry couldn't quite decide how to feel about it. It would be bad to refuse a present from the gentle giant. But on the other hand, he never understood how one could own an animal. It was not like they were objects; those you could own, craft, use every single day, call your own. But an animal? A living thing with a mind of its own?

Sure, you could train them, teach them to respond in a certain way. Well, that was not even that bad, seeing how everyone did nearly the same thing to their kids, to prepare them for a life among human beings. But putting them in a cage? If they were supposed to live that way, animals would build their nests in the form of a proper cage.

Harry never could say that he owned an animal. One could stay near him a really long time, eat his food, and sleep in his bed. Maybe even do what he asked it to do. But if one day that animal decided that his company was not the best thing for them, or a calling made them to go and find a partner of their own kind, with whom they would stay for the rest of their lives... well, if something like that happened, Harry would just have to accept their decision.

That was why he had to understand what this strange owl was all about. If they could live together without tearing each other's eyes out. Or even if they would live together at all, or the owl would simply live right next to him.

Like so many other unappreciated things, a simple staring contest could tell you lots about the person you were playing with.

There was a problem, though. It was clear that the owl had no idea about the rules of this particular game. True, at first, she sat there, staring at Harry as he was staring back. But then she started moving back and forth on the backrest of the seat she was standing on. She was tilting her head, going this and that way, trying to make her way onto his shoulder only to freeze mid step, with her leg raised, when Harry's piercing gaze caught her.

Finally she gave up the gentle right in front of Harry, she headbutted him, and began to rub her head all over his forehead. Harry gave up too, closing his eyes and letting the bird do whatever she wanted. If she was intelligent enough to deal with his antics at the very start, he could not see any problem with them spending time together.

A loud chuckle ended his internal debate, and he opened one eye, still keeping his head where the owl could reach it, and glanced at Hagrid who was sitting at the table, watching the two.

"I guess she likes you," the giant said.

"And I like her too," Harry replied, finally sitting upright, but allowing the owl to make her way onto his shoulder. "Her being an animal was a good start in the first place," he added absentmindedly, scratching the bird's head.

When he noticed Hagrid's questioning gaze, he craned his head to look at the bird as he spoke.

"I mean, they're simpler than humans. They do only needful things, respect only necessary rules, and when they're angry at you, it's really your fault. If you know how to follow couple of simple rules, even an unknown animal can be a great company," he said with a small smile as he watched the owl cleaning her feathers. Then he sighed.

"People on the other hand, they have all those things in their heads that screw everything over, even if they haven't even started yet. You have to work long and hard to break through all of that, to know for sure what that particular person is all about. And sometimes it's simply impossible to make people understand that, 'Yes, I know that I look odd, but rest assured that all I want is to be friends...'" Harry said, and glanced at his temporary guardian.

Hagrid was sitting there, with that certain type of unseeing gaze which clearly showed that he was lost somewhere in the past. Harry already heard what kind of rumours there were running around about the giant man, courtesy of the blond boy in the clothes store. But he doubted that Hagrid chose this life, something close to solitude.

He was too friendly, too much good company when you got to know him, to want to be left alone in the middle of the forest most of the time. There had to be something that drove him away from people, something in his past that made him sure that living on the fringes of the society was the best way to deal with everything.

"Animals simply don't judge you the way people do," Harry finally spoke, waking Hagrid up from his recollection.

"I guess I understand that," Hagrid said more quietly than his usual self. Then he stood up abruptly, breaking the uncomfortable moment. "We should get going," he said, as if the moment had not happened at all. "I mean, all that's left is your wand."

That in itself brought a smile onto Harry's face. He stood up too, only to get hit in the face by a wing when the owl on his shoulder had to keep her balance, having been startled by the sudden move. The expression on Harry's face at that was enough to make Hagrid go into a full belly laughter, with small tears of mirth shining in his eyes. A sight much better than that forlorn face he made just a moment earlier, Harry decided.

* * *

Even as far as the weirdness of the magical world went, a boy casually strolling with a bird sitting on his shoulder was an unusual sight. Still, no matter how many eyes stared at him, Harry refused to put his new friend in the cage he was carrying in his hand. Guest rooms would certainly look a lot different, if doing that was the norm for social interaction.

But when they came to the doors of the most famous wand shop in the Diagon Alley, Harry did not have to explain before the snowy owl took flight, settling herself somewhere near. Free of the company that would be frowned upon in a shop, they entered.

It was odd. There was clearly something in the shop that unnerved anyone that entered. Hagrid, constantly fidgeting on the small chair was a prime example of that fact. But there was something else...

Harry felt it the minute he stepped into the shop. That feeling that he knew from very few occasions.

It felt like home.

More precisely, it was all in Magie's style. The mystery in every visible item, and unknown lurking in every shadow. There was simply too much unexpected here to leave it to chance. Usually he knew that Magie would be snickering somewhere nearby. But now, now, he felt that... presence.

"Good afternoon," Harry whispered, turning to the person who just appeared, with the same statement on his lips.

The sudden break in the overbearing silence startled Hagrid so much, that he jumped, making the small chair he was sitting on squeak horribly. That little interruption did nothing to disturb two people, staring at each other.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Harry Potter."

Harry watched and listened carefully as the man went through his routine. The mystic voice and the memory that was never off had to make an impression on quite a number of people. But Harry was used to tricks like that. Spending so much time with Magie and her friends made him impervious to manipulations like those.

And still, he could not shake the feeling that since the moment he met Hagrid, this single shop was the very first time that he truly came close to the magical world. The essence of magic. Its spirit in its simplest form.

He did not even question Olivander's strange practices, like picking random wands from seemingly limitless supply of them. He took it in stride, enchanted in the feeling that there was something deeper, and much more intricate happening here, but nothing which could be caught at a first sight.

And then he was proven right. Picking what felt the hundredth wand from the stack, he felt tingling in his fingers, and with a one swift swish a stream of rainbow-like sparks shot out from the tip. There was something else that came as quickly and ended just as suddenly as the sparks - a girlish giggle that Harry could not decide if he simply imagined.

* * *

Harry sat on the train that would take him back to the Dursleys. He knew that would certainly miss the gentle giant, and that small dusty wand shop in the middle of the hidden district, even though he had spent such a short time with them. Still, there was a smile on his face, since this was only his first step in a new journey. He stared out of the window at the world he had seen so many times that suddenly felt so unfamiliar, as a pair of amber eyes glided above him in the evening sky.

* * *

AN. Send your thanks to Kdorian for all the improvements made in this chapter.


	4. Coming and going

If I were to change the country I live in, have some heavy surgery to change my gender and facial features, and learn to act like J. ... I could be confused with her. But until then, I don't think anybody would mistake me for owner of Harry Potter.

* * *

"No chores. No shouting. A whole day outside of the house. Shopping..." Harry kept counting as he tried to summarise the day on his ride back to the Dursleys. So far it was the best birthday he had ever had. If he only took that thought one step further, it would become the best day in general. Then he would probably have considered the phrase 'the calm before storm' and how it applied to his current situation. What with it being the middle of the evening after a really peaceful day. As it was, he had too much on his mind to really think about what was awaiting him when he got home.

The Dursleys had never given him a key, so the only option he was left with was to knock and wait. Finally, Dudley opened the door, and grinned nastily when he spotted who was waiting outside.

"You're going to get it this time," Dudley said, letting him into the house. "Dad! The freak is back!" he called after closing the door behind Harry, who was struggling with all his packages.

Vernon Dursley came from the living room, his face purple from a day full of thinking of ways to teach his good-for-nothing nephew a lesson. At the sight of all the things in the hallway, whatever dressing-down speech he had prepared died unsaid.

"Boy, what's the meaning of this?" he asked accusingly, eyeing the packages dumped on the carpet.

"School supplies," Harry answered, slightly out of breath from juggling all the things he had carried.

"What are you talking about?" Vernon asked, having a bad feeling. "School supplies for what?" he asked nevertheless.

"For Hogwarts," Harry answered simply.

That statement made Vernon gape, and Petunia gasp from where she was listening.

"YOU ARE NOT GOING THERE!" she shrieked.

"Why?" Harry asked, surprised by the sudden outburst.

"I will not allow any of that freakiness! I saw it enough when my sister came back from that school and did all those unnatural things. Nothing like that will happen in this house!" Petunia seethed.

Harry stood there, shocked, since of all the times he could recall, this was the very first in which his aunt had truly lost her temper.

"Petunia told me about your parents and their kind," Vernon took over. "When we took you in, we agreed to make you normal," he stated, speaking more to his wife than to Harry. Then his expression hardened as he turned back to face Harry "You will not be involved with any of _that," _he said with finality. "You will get proper education, so you can live a proper life. If your parents had known better, they wouldn't have gotten themselves blown up and-" He was building up steam again, only to be interrupted.

"ENOUGH!" Harry shouted, enraged, and the Dursleys found themselves unable to move.

"You keep talking _normal_ this and _proper_ that. If you want me normal, why not treat me like Dudley? Something wrong with him? Beside that, look at yourself... look at what you do. Do normal adults beat children? What kind of people starve others? Does anyone get locked away for just being different? The most normal thing you do is lie about all of this, anyone would. Maybe that's why you make a fetish of being normal. If you keep trying to make me normal the way you do, someday you will break me. Or you'll just starve me to death before that. If that happens, think hard how to save your illusions when people start asking 'How could that happen?' after my autopsy."

He stood there, glaring at his two guardians, and saw clearly the fear in their eyes. Were they fearing him, or the potential future he just mentioned? He didn't know. More importantly, he didn't care right then.

"Move," he commanded, releasing his relatives from their invisible prison, and they stumbled backwards while he stormed upstairs, not even noticing that his packages were floating after him. Only when he reached his room did he stop and take a deep breath, his purchases dropping to the floor. Leaning on the desk with his eyes closed, trying to calm himself, he felt arms encircling him in a gentle hug.

"You didn't do that before," he whispered, but did not try to get away.

"I can tell you needed one," the voice he knew so well answered.

"Haven't seen you all day, done something interesting?" he asked, smiling slightly at his own attempt to change the subjects. He wasn't surprised when it didn't work.

"You know that I'm always around. Now stop it, and tell me what's wrong."

She had to wait a moment for the answer, as Harry was collecting his thoughts. It was clear that even the mention of it sent his mind into a frenzy.

"All my life I wondered why they treated me like they did," he finally said. "Now they tell me that it was their way of showing that they cared. My upbringing was their parental 'we know what's best for you' routine," he stated with a bitter smile. "They did everything to make me acceptable by their standards, like their way of life was the only right one," he told her, letting some of his frustration out.

Magie hugged him tighter before letting go. When he opened his eyes and turned to look at her, she simply pointed to the bed. He lay down, and she sat on the floor beside his bed, running her hand through his hair when it fell on the pillow, lightly humming some tune. Before he could even start to think where he might have heard that silly song, he was fast asleep, free of bothersome thoughts.

* * *

During the last month of vacation, the Dursleys kept pretending he was invisible. He did not know if that was because of what he had said or did to them that evening, but that left him to care for himself. He was more than capable of doing that. Not doing chores left him with plenty of time to read his new books, and talk with Magie and her friends on a whole new level, now that he finally knew what they were. He also got to know the white owl, Hedwig. She seemed to respond well to that name when he mentioned it during his conversations, forgetting a couple of times that he no longer needed to actually speak the words.

But the closer it came to September, the more he thought about how he would get to Hogwart. He could not count on his relatives suddenly acknowledging his existence again. There was also the matter of the mysterious platform his ticked mentioned, something he discovered while making sure he had everything necessary to make the trip on his own.

One letter to Hagrid was enough to solve most of his problems. It gave him specific directions how to find the platform, and enough muggle currency to take him there. He omitted in his letter why he needed the money exchanged, simply stating that it could come in handy. Just the thought of involving his new friend in the dealings of his already troubled family came to him as a bad idea. Hagrid was a well-meaning, although a bit careless person, and having him think that there is some kind of trouble could only end in him storming the place and scaring the hell out of his already weirded-out family.

When by the last day of August nothing had changed, he went to bed fully prepared to travel by himself. He awoke early next morning, and after checking for the hundredth time if he had everything ready, he went down to start his trip to the school. He only made it to the hallway when he was stopped by a voice from the kitchen.

"What are you doing here at this hour?" Vernon asked when he caught sight of his nephew, his steaming cup of coffee stopped halfway to his mouth.

"It's first of September. I have to go to school," Harry replied, his voice leaving no doubt that he would get there, one way or another.

"And where are you going?" Vernon asked, finally placing his cup back on the tabletop.

"King's Cross," came the short answer.

Vernon regarded Harry for a while, seemingly waging some kind of internal debate. It didn't take him long to come to a decision.

"Wait couple of minutes and I'll give you a lift," he said, and went to prepare for work, leaving his coffee untouched in the kitchen.

Harry watched his uncle climb the stairs, and when he was gone, dragged his trunk outside and waited by the car without complaint.

The ride was spent in silence, with Vernon glancing at his nephew from time to time. Harry just looked out of the window. He knew for sure that it would be counter-productive to worry about whatever his uncle was troubled by, saying nothing about asking him about it. He was sure that when Vernon would be ready, he would speak his mind. It came with the character. He could blow up about the silliest thing, but it would take him forever to admit to something he was truly troubled by.

When they arrived at the station, they loaded the trunk on a cart together. Inside of the building, Vernon seemed to come close to the breaking point, but in the end he just got red in the face, and only said, "Have a good term," before turning and going back to the car.

Harry looked after his retreating relative, then just shrugged and went to the entrance of platform nine and three quarters. He had close to twenty minutes to spare but went straight through, in part to check if it was really there. On the other side of the barrier there was not as much of a crowd as in muggle section, as he could only see small groups standing here and there. He went along the train and found an empty car on the end. He could use couple more hours of sleep, so he went for the farthest compartment to avoid any disturbances.

His idea of getting some more rest was spoiled by his luggage. The old trunk he found in the attic was not the lightest on its own, and having all of Harry's things in it made it nearly too heavy for him to lift. After considerable struggle he finally managed to get it on board, but by the time he got it to the last compartment all he had strength for was to push it under one of the seats.

As he sat there on the floor of the compartment, winded from the heavy lifting, he heard croaking - not a sound he expected to catch his ear. But after checking under the bench he was resting against, sure enough, he found a toad hiding in the darkest corner. He assumed that it was probably a pet of one of the students, but still, the thought that crossed his mind of a toad riding the train without a ticket and hiding from the conductor made him chuckle.

Finally he stood from the floor, and made himself comfortable near the window. It was only then that he noticed just how long his fight with the trunk had dragged on. Crowds absent from earlier appeared at last, when the people almost late for the train hurriedly sought available seats. With all farewells yelled outside, the sounds of trunks being banged around, and doors slamming throughout the car, Harry knew that he would be unable to fall asleep. Instead, he dug out one of his textbooks, hoping that something to read would make the long journey go faster.

He did not even get through second page before the train gave a jerk and started rolling slowly out of the station. The fact that he was still alone in the compartment made him think that there were fewer students than he had previously thought there were, but it wasn't long before he got back to his book.

The cart with the sweets was a pleasant surprise, and Harry bought at least one of every kind as to try what wizarding world had to offer. He quickly found that he had overestimated his appetite, because by the time his first hunger had been satiated there was still a large pile of sweets left. Not used to overeating, he slowed down, reading his book and snacking in the meantime.

He was unpacking his latest chocolate frog, throwing another Dumbledore on the pile of cards he had collected, when door to his compartment opened and a girl with bushy brown hair and a short-haired boy, who seemed near tears, both peered inside.

"Have you seen a toad? Neville lost his," she said. She had a bossy kind of voice, Harry noticed.

Holding a squirming chocolate frog in his hand, he pointed to the corner where he knew the toad had hidden. At that Neville, as he guessed, dived right under the bench. The girl was thrown on the seat next to Harry in the process, at which he chuckled slightly, gaining him a slight glare. He just smiled at her, throwing the frog into his mouth, and went back to his book.

"What are you reading?" she asked a moment later, breaking the awkward silence.

If there was one thing he learned from the Dursleys, it was how to entertain guests. Now, with people in his compartment, it would not be polite to simply disregard them.

He turned to face the girl. "A History of Magic," he replied, placing a bookmark and setting his book aside.

"You like reading?" she asked, clearly hopeful.

"Well, I certainly don't dislike it. I did it often enough at school. My cousin wouldn't go anywhere near the library. But now I thought some reading may be good to pass the time, and I need some catching up on wizarding world."

"So you are muggle raised too?" Harry just nodded at her question."But why were you hiding from your cousin?" she asked, frowning.

"Well, he and his gang liked to play Harry-hunting, and since I am Harry... you know," he said with a shrug, leaving it hanging.

"Oh." She looked at him sympathetically for a moment, before her eyes widened. "Oh! Sorry, I haven't introduced myself. Hermione Granger." She extended her hand, which he shook.

"Harry Potter."

At that the boy looking for his toad hit his head on the underside of the bench, and at last came to his feet with the toad in his hand.

"Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, I got a few extra books for background reading. You're in Modern Magical History, and The Rise and Fall of Dark Arts, and Great Wizarding Events-" She had to stop because Harry began to chuckle again.

"Why are you laughing?" she said with a frown.

"You make it sound like you know me better than I do myself," he said with a lingering laugh, which made her scowl. "Well, you do," he stated simply, still smiling at her, which only made her look away. Then he thought about it, and his smile faltered a little. "Does it say about anything more than the night when my parents were killed?" he asked.

"Well, nothing solid," she said with downcast eyes and slightly redder ears.

"But you said you are muggle raised..." said the boy with the toad, changing the awkward topic.

"I am. Neville, right?" Harry continued when the boy nodded. "I lived with my uncle and aunt. Only learned about magic when Hagrid came to give me my letter. It's funny story too..."

The rest of the journey was spent with the three of them trading stories. Reluctantly at first, they talked about their childhood more and more as the train ride progressed. Harry had to admit that he liked their conversation, sharing his experiences with real people, but he simply could not shake off his perceptiveness.

The more words were spoken, the more he noticed just how much Neville was unsure of himself. All the stories that he told so casually, in their simplest forms, made him the pushover in his family. And his expression clearly showed that he could not believe that anyone would be interested in anything he said.

Still, the insecure boy did not send Harry's alarm bells ringing as much as Hermione did. It was clear that the girl believed in order and authority over everything else. That striving to be the best, in her case knowing everything there was to know, should be everyone's main objective. Yet from all the tales of her friendless childhood, Harry knew that she had learned the hard way that the world just was not so. What worried him was the fact that she, a genuinely smart girl, did not learn from that. No, what she did was to lock herself deeper in her beliefs, and build them even more profound.

Harry knew first hand how life with people who fanatically followed one thought looked like. He also saw what a good ideal could change to in real life, if a person was stubborn enough to force it no matter what. He didn't want that kind of life for either of his two new friends.

He shared his own stories, always leaving Magie and the details of his life at the Dursley's out of it. He opened up as much as the other two did. Not stating anything troubling or private outright, yet leaving those subtle hints in his words, counting on the other two to pick it out from between the lines, just like he read between theirs.

But even Harry himself missed that crucial moment. That of a friendship forming. In the middle of that seemingly common conversation, each of them completely missed the moment when they started caring for those two seemingly random companions they met while travelling.

By the time they made it to the lake, sharing one boat and gazing at the glorious castle with the same wide eyes, none of them thought much about the people beside them. They did not wonder about how they happened to meet, or didn't even consider how they would say goodbye. Because somewhere deep down, they all already counted on each other, knowing that they would be stuck in the same metaphorical boat for the longest time.

* * *

AN. My answer for the "How Dursleys got of the island, if Hagrid took their boat?" You don't leave boats just anywhere, there must have been dock or somewhere that the person Vernon rented the boat from kept it. Harry told the man at the dock that Dursleys were still there.

Again, thank Kdorian for the improvements.


	5. Old and new

Why would J. write fan-fiction when it's her world and she can simply publish her work and make loads of money for it? Seriously, it's an honest question. Since I am not her, I don't have slightest idea why she would post her stories here. Can someone give me a hint?

* * *

It was close to midnight after the start-of-term feast at Hogwarts, but even on a day like this Harry was not worn out from excitement. From young age he learned to enjoy the peaceful silence of the night. There are some better ways to learn to appreciate it, but for him it was simply because the day was filled with activity and shouting. He liked when everyone in the neighbourhood was asleep, because he felt calm being in the middle of motionless world.

'And what keeps you awake this time?' a whisper from nearby made him smile.

He opened his eyes and look at the headboard of his four poster bed, where Magie perched, and he just had to smile more.

'Wondering if you are part cat or not,' he said, placing his pillow on the other end of the bed so he could look at her while resting.

'Why would I be part cat?' she asked, turning so she could lie on the narrow ledge, as if that was the most natural thing for a person to do. Harry gave her a pointed look at that, but seeing the innocent expression she was making, he finished setting his bed before answering.

'For one, you like sitting like you are now,' he said, and didn't even acknowledge the confused expression she threw his way, 'though a windowsill is your favourite place.' he finished, not letting her mess with him this time. 'Ever since I moved from my cupboard you sit anywhere but bed or chair,' he added with a frown, more to himself than to her.

'I'm just enjoying this freedom while it lasts,' she said. Harry stared at her incredulously, not believing that she, the person who could never be caged, would say something like that. 'You never know...' was her only response, and he relented, knowing she had a point there.

'Then there is your thing with scratching, you do it a lot,' Harry continued after a while 'Well, normally I should scratch you, since you're the cat, but I think that you scratch me instead to get me off track,' he said, earning a chuckle out of her.

'And most important thing, you walk your own ways.' he stated, getting a bit more serious. 'I haven't seen you couple of days now,' he added, trying to feel if, perhaps, it wasn't because of him.

For the longest time now, he was wondering what would happen to her when they entered the castle walls. Up until that point he saw her only in muggle neighbourhood, with nothing to get in the way with her manifestation. Still, the fact that she was not present on his trip to Diagon Alley made him worry. What would happen to her if there were magical interferences nearby, if there ever was such a thing.

Seeing her now reassured him that he worried without a reason. But it also turned his attention to the fact that there were times where he was so absorbed with his thoughts that she seemed to simply fade away. He knew for sure that she would always be there for him, but sometimes he simply became so lost in thought...

A soft poking at his temple reminded him of the conversation he was just having. He glanced up, and noticed Magie, tapping the side of her hed, still managing to get his attention.

'Well, you know that I don't need to always be here, to always be here...' she said with a clearly amused expression.

'Okay, okay. Enough with that smug look of yours,' he tried to say with a mean face, but it was spoiled with a smile that broke through. He enjoyed their banter, more so when he was the one doing the teasing. Still, he knew that payback she would deal him was only fair.

'So, something happened while I wasn't around?' she asked after a while. He knew that she could know by other means, but he still welcomed the conversation.

'Nothing big,' he replied with an unimpressed shrug 'First time at an enchanted castle, with ghosts and gigantic feast. Magic and stuff. You know, day like any other,' Harry said as indifferently as he could. Truth be told, after all the time he spent with her, and all the things she told him since he learned what she really was , the castle was just confirmation of most of the things he heard about.

'Well, even a day as boring as this one would surely have something worth mentioning,' she said, playing along.

He closed his eyes, and smiled at the memory of what occurred not so long ago.

_Harry walked toward the stool, noticing people straining their necks to look at him, but that was soon replaced by the sight of the inside of a hat._

_'Well, I haven't seen a mind like this before,' Harry heard from a small voice in his ear._

_'I can say the same,' he thought, laughing internally at the idea that he was looking inside the head of someone who was doing the same to him._

_'Witty,' the voice remarked, 'that's good, but what else is there?'the hat questioned, and Harry suddenly felt like all those times Dursleys had conversations about him while he was in the same room._

_Sure, the hat probably was busy, what with all the students standing in line to be sorted. Still, if the hat had to have a monologue, did he really have to hear it? Harry sighed, knowing that it was only when Magie and the others entered his life that he learned just how rude that was._

_'Hmmm,' hat's voice ringed in his ear a split second after the idea of his friends flashed in his mind. 'Keeps friends in mind, but considering who they are, that isn't much of a surprise.'_

_The off hand remark from the hat stopped Harry in his tracks. 'Considering who they are' rang in his mind, with all the repercussions it could cause._

_The hat could hardly let slip anything it learned. If it would, the story would probably never die down. But, still, fact that there was an object casually reading people's thoughts..._

_'Am I now?' the hat interjected._

_That made him stop. It was too much like one of Magie's questions when she was in her playful mood to be an invitation to further deliberation. Then he became aware of the silence that became overwhelming, so he decided to try another approach._

_'If you're not reading my mind,' Harry mused, weighting all the possibilities, 'then you are waiting...' he guessed._

_'Go on,' the hat allowed after a pause, for the first time acknowledging Harry. But he wasn't sure if it was a trap of some kind, or the hat just wanted to know where he was going with it._

_Harry once again remembered the line of kids, half scared to death over the unknown test that was awaiting them._

_'You don't need to read anyone's mind, because one plagued with doubt shows you many things you can pick from. All you do is wait, nudging with your whisperings. And each and every child goes deeper and deeper into their own conciousness, believing it to be the only safe place. Then, when they're are at their core, you see what they value, what they cherish the most. You see who they are at heart,' Harry stated, and then a realisation hit him. _

_'You allow us places, but you don't pick them for us. We all pick them for ourselves,' he stated, thinking of all the families that ended in the same house. _

_Weasleys for instance. A history of Gryffindor students throughout the generations. It wasn't that surprising. Families stuck together, and once a bunch of them gathered, the others followed._

_Yet, at the same time, it also explained why Patil twins ended in two different houses just now. Being an identical twin wasn't a walk in a park. Parents most often than not treated the kids as two clones of one person, dressing them alike down to the smallest detail. But each twin had their own personality. An exclamation in a crowded hall is probably an extreme, but it goes a long way to show just how different they are. It makes them distinguishable. Probably for the first time in their life._

_The ideas burried in the mind, sometimes fully subconcious. The personal image of the person one is, or eventually would want to be. It goes further into showing what a person desires than any memory that could be misinterpreted. The hat simply pointed the person in that direction, placing them among people of similar mind. That acknowledgement, the slight push, can be all the help a person needs to take steps into achieving what they wished for._

_'Interesting,' the hat's whisper returned just as that theory fully formed in Harry's mind._

_'What is?' he asked, unsure of what he revealed this time._

_'Your perceptive observations allow you to make the most insightful theories,' the hat allowed, not revealing if he was right or wrong. 'But there is something else, or rather, lack of something that fascinates me,' it continued without a pause. 'Your curiosity doesn't meet the boundaries other people have in place. You can reach further and dig deeper, unhindered by a bias that casts a shadows on some concepts in your peers' mind's.'_

_'But it's not only that,' the hat continued after a moment, this time sounding unsure, as if doubting itself over sharing this part. 'You not only can reach ideas others refuse to contemplate, buy do, and will so as much as is necessary to reach what you are seeking for. It might have been dangerous, if not for the thing you are so desperate to find. The truth. Complete, in it's simplest, purest form. And even knowing that you will never fully grasp it, you still are set to search for it,' the hat said with a sigh, and Harry could feel that if it could do so, it would shake it's head._

_'I now understand what is your place in this world of deceit. A person like you could only go to GRYFFINDOR!'the hat shouted, and it was removed from Harry's head moments later. He stood and went to his house table, being congratulated by his new house-mates along the way. Still, no one pestered him about the time he took with the hat, which only led him to believe there was still more to the already mysterious conversation. Then food appeared on the table, reminding him just how hungry he had become..._

'A hat with a built in mind?' Magie mused when Harry finished telling her about the encounter. 'Neat! I could think of couple of people who are in desperate need of one of those,' she said in the end, making him chuckle at her summary.

'Anything else you might want to share with me?' she asked just in the moment when Harry gave an audible yawn.

'Maybe later,' he said, getting comfortable for the night. The irritating feeling that he was being stared at made him open one eye.

'No pouting,' Harry grimaced at her childish side having to manifest just in this instant. 'I'm trying to sleep here,' he huffed, turning on his other side to avoid her gaze. He honestly couldn't understand why she thought that bedtime was always the best moment to get the party started.

'Spoilsport,' she threw his way, and he didn't have to turn to know that she wasn't there moments later. He smiled, allowing her the last word this time. He was simply happy that even when everything seemed to change, they could still be the way they always were.

* * *

AN. Dumbledore's 'Few words before the feast' always reminds me of George Carlin's 'In your own words' sketch. It's sad that there won't be any new jokes of his.


	6. Taking things head on

Why people won't stop harassing me with questions about my being J. K. Rowling every time I post? She has gone missing and everyone is looking for her? Is that it? If so, then it is good I am not her. I like knowing where I am.

* * *

World is filled with chaos.

On a daily basis, people around the world encounter strangest events. A storm hitting out of nowhere, when previously you could expect only sunny days ahead. Fish or frogs raining from the sky. Lightnings striking when there is not a single cloud in sight. A pilar of fire appearing just in the moment when one needs it...

History is filled with tales of such things. Unexplainable events, seemingly breaking the laws of nature. Freak cases of previously well known facts, being the reason for revision of everything people previously knew to be true, or disputes questioning if something like that truly could even happen. Occurences that take place without a reason.

Or do they?

That question alone probably brought more chaos to the world, than any strange event that ever happened on this planet. While most of the population resigned themselves to the already known facts, blind to anything that could break the set order, there were some, those precious few, who didn't stop until everything once again made sense. One needs a special kind of mindset to be able to cast away everything previously learned, and be open to all kinds of uncertainties while looking for the truth.

A crazy person. Dangerous even, since that's what people usually thought in the end.

Harry would call himself merely curious, as he watched a painted figure skip from one picture to the other, while he casually strolled after it. His classmates bonded in their common rooms, to find some kinship in this new strange place, and he knew he had to seem odd, roaming the castle all on his own. A tourist in a gallery filled with fascinating exhibits wouldn't make a finer job at looking interested in every single doorway and staircase than Harry when he encountered them.

He didn't care what people said about him, even while being aware of the rumours that spread throughout the castle like wildfire. It was clear that everyone he encountered had a previously set idea about how he should behave. No time like the present to start disappointing people, he thought to himself on the very first day of classes. He would keep to himself, until such a time that he knew exactly what to do.

He didn't knew why, time and time again, people refused to face the reality. Stop whatever was going in their heads, consider the things happening around them, and only then go on, keeping in mind facts that became so clear over time. No, earth was not flat, no matter how much you wanted it to be. And no, it wasn't the centre of the universe, no matter how many people said that it was wrong to say otherwise. And no, Harry Potter wasn't what all the books written about him made him to be.

Harry sighed, standing at the top level of the Grand Staircase, and watching the stairs move in a rhythm only they knew. He wondered just how many fools, believing first thing they heard, he would meet here. Just like that Malfoy kid. Since he learned the name, the boy changed his outlook on Harry to the point where he didn't even remember their previous encounter. A human mind is a fascinating thing. Nearly as much as the lies and misconceptions it can create.

That's why Harry rarely listened to that whimsy whisper in the back of his mind, which told him that he should be touched, hurt, or even outright outraged by something. He didn't listen to it even when he didn't knew for sure that it wasn't his own.

Instead, he simply asked questions. Why should he be touched by that particular thing? If that person wanted to hurt him, maybe he did something that hurt them first? And what was so wrong in what was said that he should be outraged by it? Could it be that it's true? Even if only partly?

Harry was always wary of the stories people exchanged, but it didn't stop him from looking for that grain that made them to be true. Something as simple as the fact that gravity effects all. Or as elemental as the charge of the electron, being the same no matter what atom is picked, or even the galaxy it's taken from.

That's why, while all the children from his year found company, to not be so alone, Harry stared the unknown in the eye, waiting for it to wink at him, revealing that it was just an old known friend in a disguise.

Facts always stayed the same. They didn't change because a person started feeling bad about them. They were not a matter of opinion or personal beliefs. They did not stop working just because a person refused to believe that they were at work in this particular case. Just like the thunder from a clear sky was not God's Judgement. Or fish falling from the sky, a blessing in times of famine.

Harry refused to substitute the truth with a first hand excuse. He simply could not forget about that earth shattering event that he had seen with his own eyes. And he couldn't be influenced by anyone around to just let it go.

By no means he was a nosy person. He simply didn't forget about it after just couple of days. He constantly kept it in mind, always on the lookout for things tied directly to it. Because, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, everything was important. It was, for a very simple reason.

Chaos doesn't exist. The demonised entity lurking in the shadows to crush your life when you are least expecting it shouldn't even be mentioned after such a statement. Truth was, that even the mundane randomness of all the hindrances people meet in their daily lives cannot be used here. Because, what people fail to see, is that there is no chance. What exists under that dubious name, are the repercussions of the order people crave so much.

Survival of the fittest. People knew that particular law of nature for quite some time now. But no one comments that it doesn't lead to one dominant species outliving all the others. Instead, nature fills the planet with millions of creatures, to make sure that at least some will survive any possible cataclysm tham may happen in the future.

Survival of the fittest... but to fulfil what purpose, exactly? People miss a question so simple, yet so mind numbing in it's consequences.

Just how they miss the unspoken dance of seemingly insignificant elements, spread throughout the castle. Harry didn't, though. Standing calmly near a random window, he observed. He didn't question what he saw, merely memorised all the curious correlations happening now and then.

Like the fact that that single staircase which lead "somewhere else" only on Friday, switched places in the exact moment when upper year students had classes on the other side of the castle than the third years and below. Probably no one noticed that that lone staircase just happened to be right between the two groups.

He was like a person trying to piece a puzzle, but having to look for pieces hidden under the couch, lost in the sink, or swept into the vacuum. Having Magie there, sitting on the windowsill, commenting about one topic or another opened his eyes to some of the more fascinating hiding places.

Later he would question the validity of his findings. Now, he needed as much pieces as he could uncover. He knew he would solve this puzzle. It was just a matter of time. He knew it just as well as he knew that magic was no miracle. Although he had very little proof to support that claim, it was as clear to him as the sun in the sky.

It was for a very simple reason. He saw many signs of magic inside the castle. The paintings. Moving staircases. Doors that changed position. Floating candles filling a hall with an enchanted ceiling. That and much, much more. On the other hand, he saw very little of it outside of the castle walls. That reminded him of the reason why all scientists loved experiments.

A closed of system can always be described by a a total sum zero equation.

Harry heard that wizards had a way to express magic with complicated equations. Used in spell-crafting, they couldn't be that precise. Maybe there were people, casting spells their entire lives, that could trace a perfect circle with the tip of their wands. But a bunch of students just getting their grasp on the idea? Doubtful. Thus, a formula for each and every spell had to allow certain irregularity.

That small deviation cannot be that noticeable on a personal scale. But with all the students in the castle, casting spells left and right, any kind of difference from the norm quickly becomes a lot of chaos. Especially if you deal with magic.

That's why the castle had to burn it off somehow. Or even shuffle it around to keep it evenly spread until it dissipated on it's own. That meant that the ambient magic, free of a casters will that would moulded it, could be kept at bay. Localized. Controlled even.

And it meant there were some additional rules at work. Ones that people didn't knew, or simply didn't speak about. Harry knew that he would learn all about normal spell-casting in classes. But if there were some additional facts, he had to learn those too. Since, as long as something exists, it can be used in one way or another. The more the less of it the other people know.

He knew that he wouldn't be able to learn everything in a day. But it didn't matter. Harry learned how to be patient a long time ago. Besides, there were other things he had to do in the meantime.

* * *

"Ah, yes. Harry Potter. Our new – _celebrity_."

The innocent remark, spoken in a soft whisper immediately silenced everything that was alive in the dungeon that was used as a potions clasroom. Everyone who ever heard of Severus Snape instantly knew that he hated people in general. But when he became interested in a particular person, it meant social death to the person in question. A dead man walking warning wouldn't describe their fate any better.

Many Gryffindors winced, while Slytherins were smirking while they exchanged meaningful looks, expecting what would follow such a morbid start. That stopped once everyone turned to look at Harry. No one could understand how could he be sitting there, sporting a broad smile, as if some sort of honour was bestowed upon him. No one could believe that a person who was assigned to Snape's personal Death Row could remain so jolly. Still, Harry was sitting there, a perfect picture of contentment, chasing away the shadows with his merry mood.

It was clear that it was bugging the hell out of Snape, since:

"Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" he snapped, immediately after he finished his start of the year speech.

That finally broke the image of endless joy that Harry managed to place on his face. His smile melted slowly, the light that seemingly shined from his every pore dimmed. A crease blossomed on his forehead, when his expression took the form of a deep, miningfull consternation. Finally sadness crept into his eyes, his face expressing feeling of an utter defeat, which made the shadows seem even more depressing than before, and the students to pull their robes tighter around themselves.

All that took Harry to complete his metamorphosis was just a second or two, yet each particular stage was so defined that it deserved a book of it's own. Finally, he spoke.

"I don't know, sir," he said, using a tone one saved for when he let down his idol.

"Clearly, fame isn't everything," Snape replied, staring right into Harry's eyes.

No one laughed, even when faced with such a blatant jab. Everyone turned back to Harry, since, it seemed, for the first time in history, Snape met an opponent mad enough to go one step too far. For the entire class, it was like watching a tennis match in which opponents used bombs instead of normal balls. Everyone present knew that something horrible is about to happen, yet no one could tear their eyes away while they waited for the inevitable disaster.

"I couldn't agree more, sir," Harry said, his cheerful mood returning in a split of a second. While the previous change seemed like an incoming glacier, monumentous in it's own right, this one caught them by surprise, just like being hit in the face with a trout.

"And still you didn't thought to open your book before you came here?" Snape asked, undeterred by Harry's behaviour. In fact, it only helped to channel more and more of his hate into the classroom, making everyone cover in their seats.

Still, it seemed that it had completely no effect on Harry.

"Oh, I opened the book, sir," he replied, seeming even happier at the thought that he haven't let down his teacher completely. "I nearly completely memorised the chapters about proper behaviour near a brewing stand, and how to limit accidents to a minimum. I assure you that if I thought there would be a pop quiz during the very first class, I would have prepared better."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Potter," Snape said while he stepped righ before Harry's desk, "but you won't get any special treatment in this particular class."

If looks could kill, Harry's head would have disintegrated a long time ago. By now, Snape would have killed everyone sitting directly behind Harry, and probably incapacitate anything living up to a hundred and twenty seven feet underground.

"I'm sorry to point this out, sir," Harry replied nevertheless, lowering his voice to a conspirational whisper, that was still quite audible in the complete silence that filled the room, "but you're giving me a special treatment this very instance. I mean, why not question some other students too?"

That question made the rest of the class stiffen. No one in their right mind would like to have Snape in the state he was now upon them. Then they became completely petrified, when the Potions Master brought his face closer to Harry's, to the point where their noses nearly touched. It seemed that the man grit his teeth for a second, still not making any visible impression on Harry, who sat there as calmly as a lamb.

Then the Potions Master straightened again, a slight smirk forming on his lips, which made blood run cold in everyone who saw the expression.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter, for questioning my teaching methods," Snape said in the most innocent voice imaginable.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare to doubt my teacher," Harry replied, confused.

Everyone's jaws disattached themselves from their hinges at that. It became official that Harry Potter was mental. Completely beyond any kind of hope at surviving the year. At first Snape was just spiteful, like he always was. But now it was clear he decided to make Harry's life as insufferable as it could possibly be in this particular class. Still, it did nothing to stop Harry.

"But while we're on the topic of questions, I have some concerning the contents of this book," he said, already flipping through the pages of the Potions textbook.

If the jaws laying all around the room could suddenly sprout legs and do a spontaneous tap-dance routine, they would, because things just went beyond mental. Harry got himself to the top of Snape's black list in record time, but he still came for seconds.

Till this point everyone spoke of just how strange Harry Potter that came to the school was. He wasn't like anything people expected. Now, though, they got a completely new perspective at the subject. The boy wasn't merely strange. He was outright insane.

"Five more points, Potter, for your constant interruptions," Snape threw over his shoulder while he wrote on the blackboard, but it was nothing like his usual snarl.

It wasn't just that Harry was insane. It seemed that it went much further, and the insanity was contagious. How else could you explain the fact that Snape became so enraged that he suddenly seemed... pleasant.

A raised hand stopped anyone from getting any more ideas, just as it made Snape stop writing. The man laid down the chalk, and turned, slowly, as if not to chase away this beautiful dream he was having.

"Yes, Potter?" he asked, crossing his hands over his chest.

"Do you mean that I shouldn't speak any more during this class?" Harry asked.

"One point, Potter, for being a complete imbecile," Snape said with such a casual feeling tied to it that it in it's own right meant that he not only could, but would do this all day long.

"I'm sorry to interrupt again, sir, but I'm not an imbecile," Harry said, which made Snape look at him incredulously. "My aunt got me tested," he added as if that explained everything.

"Another five points, Potter, for wasting not only my time, but also that of your classmates. Thanks to you, I doubt that there will be anyone who will successfully finish the exercise we're about to learn today. And because of that, for every failed potion, I will duck two more points from Gryffindor. So, as to answer your question, yes, Potter, we would all merit if you didn't open your mouth every chance you got. Now, class, the instructions are on the board, why aren't you getting to work?"

Throughout this entire exchange, Neville and Hermione, the only two people in the castle that kept any kind of steady contact with Harry, threw dubious glances his way. Neville quickly became scared, and Hermione got angrier by the minute, because neither of them had any idea what he was doing.

Now, with Snape finally concentrated on other things, it was the first time he looked back at them. But it didn't help when, instead of giving any reassuring sign, he simply smiled that infuriatingly cheerful smile, while shrugging his shoulders with "Well, what can you do?" attitude.

Till the end of the lesson, Harry managed to lose thirteen more points while rising to the challenge Snape presented him with.

* * *

The announcement of flying lessons made one thing clear in everyone's minds. The Quidditch season was soon to begin, and it was enough to alleviate at least some of the tension that spread throughout the castle.

Since Harry's first Potions class, Snape became obsessed with docking points from anyone outside Slytherin. Well, even long before this year everyone knew that he did just that on a daily basis, but since Harry Potter came into the mix, the Potions Master began to do it with a gusto that had never before been observed in this particular teacher.

While earlier the man just docked points, not caring if his judgement was fair, now, thanks to Harry, he understood that he didn't need to make up reasons to dock points. He now knew that students really were as stupid as he always thought they were, and all it took for him was to wait for them to make a mistake.

Earlier he roamed his classroom, breathing everyone's necks. Now, he just stood at the front of the class, leaning against his desk, his hunger filled eyes gleaming in the dimly lit dungeon. He stopped being that spiteful teacher everyone hated. Suddenly he became a thing of nightmares, the bogeyman under the bed, lurking not at their backs, but right inside their minds.

It wasn't long before the amount of mistakes and accidents during potions class doubled in amount, and amount of docked points tripled even that. It didn't help the students that Harry remained his jolly self throughout all of Snape's classes.

That's why, a day in the sun, as far away from the dungeons as one possibly could be while staying in Hogwarts, made every first year student smile a whole lot more.

It didn't even take whole fifteen minutes though, when Harry Potter stepped into the picture, once again changing it to something completely different than what everyone had been expecting.

After they covered theoretical part of the exercise, Madam Hooch was tutoring them on the proper flight. They were supposed to try something simple. A start, hover and a quick landing. But at the exact moment where they were about to do it, Neville, with all the clumsiness he possessed, kicked off, and began to uncontrollably rise higher and higher into the sky. The whole class stood there, dumbstruck, as the boy wobbled on the broom that was clearly out of his control.

Hermione was among them, seeing clearly that no one was about to help the boy, and knowing for sure that he couldn't, even having some peace of mind, follow the instructions Madam Hooch was screaming at him, that would allow him a safe descent.

Seeing all this she turned to Harry, to ask if he had any ideas how to help the boy, only to stop in amazement.

While the world changed around him, coming ever so closer to an immediate disaster, Harry stood there, eyes closed. It was as if he wasn't affected by the events because he was fast asleep, but the feeling Hermione got spoke volumes of the concentration he was exhibiting.

Once again she was reminded that she knew this boy only for a very short period of time. She felt something during that initial meeting. A connection she haven't felt with any other person her age. The immense trust and closeness, making her feel as if she could tell him anything.

But then there were those things he did, those moment where he didn't make any sense, that made Hermione feel like if she had been betrayed. She believed in order and authority through as long as she remembered, but, in this case, that only added to her qualms.

Harry seemed like a person with a plan. Everything about him felt as if he had things well in hand. But, if so, then why most of them made no sense at all to her? Either they didn't make sense, which would explain the feeling of betrayal, or they did, which would explain why he acted like if he already knew the outcome, but Hermione couldn't understand just how the things he did worked.

She had a big problem deciding which possibility bothered her more.

She was tempted to ask him outright what was on his mind, but she wasn't so sure of their fresh friendship as to risk it with an offhand question that could possibly open a gigantic can of worms. With Harry, you never knew what it could be...

"Requesting take-off clearance."

That sentence, so uncommon in a magical environment, immediately broke Hermione out of her thoughts and made her gaze snap back to Harry. The blank look, as if he was looking at a place somewhere deep within himself was gone, and back again was that jolly boy that Snape hated so much.

"What? Why?" Madam Hooch's brain had too reboot, in one second watching a boy floating at a death threatening height, and in the other having to process a nonsensical sentence like that.

With a grin and a wink to Hermione, Harry speed off into the air, making Hooch miss him when she turned to look at the person who demanded her attention. Still, she got the answer to the "Why" question just a split second later.

"He's going to fall!" one of the girls in the group screamed, and Neville once again became the centre of attention.

It was clear that the boy finally lost his balance on the broom, and slowly, almost comically, he began turning upside down. Everyone could see it that once got to the 'six o clock' position, it would be end for him...

But just a second before that happened, a blur moving at a ridiculous speed got to his position. Straight from a sprint it went right into a clean loop, encircling the hovering broom, and, at the bottom of the roll, a hand shot out, grabbing one of the falling boy's flailing arms, and hoisting him upright as the blur continued it's upward move.

The only problem with such a perfect rescue was the fact that Neville, after having something solid to hold on, was too terrified to let go again. That only resulted in stopping the blur a whole lot quicker than it previously thought it would stop.

"I guess I should have told you to let go earlier, but don't bother now."

That sentence woke Neville from the bad dream he was having. Moments earlier he was certain he will fall, only to wake in his own bed. Now though, he wasn't so certain about the things happening around him. Still a little green around the gills from the last twirl he did, he finally managed to gather enough courage to open his eyes. Earlier he was holding them shut with such a force that now he had to pretty much peel his eyelids away from each other.

First thing that he saw was the ground, and when he processed that all those dots below really were people, it only made him to instantly close his eyes with a whimper. Still, he was pretty certain he heard Harry just now, and, trying again, with his head turned as high as he could possibly, he tried again.

The first thing he noticed was his outstretched hand, but, with his entire body rigid and numb from fear, he barely felt it. Looking along it, he noticed another hand holding his own, and looking even further than that...

"Harry?!" he asked disbelievingly.

"Yeah?" Harry asked absent mindedly, turning his head down moments later to look at his friend. "What's up?" he asked, and then, turning his head as to make their faces at least somehow levelled, "Or down..." he added.

Seeing his friend's nearly catatonic state, Harry got back to figuring out his current predicament. Returning his gaze to his left leg, bent in the knee, essentially the only thing still holding onto his broom, he considered his options.

"Now, let's try this..." he muttered, pulling onto Neville to close the distance between them, and at the same time locking his foot onto the broom. Twisting it a little in the ankle, he made his broom go into an arc while he set his other foot onto the tip of Neville's broom. Finally, with his broom descending as it followed the circular pattern, he aligned his broom with Neville's, allowing them both to sit on both of the brooms at the same time.

"Whew! Nothing like creative aerobics to get you out of a tight spot!" Harry joked when he was once again stationary. "Aerobics! Get it?" he asked to drive the point home, now sitting quite comfortably across from his friend. One look at Neville told him that jokes were the last things in his mind at the moment.

"Come on Neville, imagine that it's just a regular bench," Harry commented, trying to comfort his friend. And it really felt as if they were straddling a narrow bench... Well, if benches could be found on this particular altitude. Seeing the state Neville was in, Harry stopped himself from sharing that particular thought.

"The worst is over. Now it should be easy to get us back down again," Harry said, getting ready to steer the brooms down. He stopped, noticing a set of twigs behind Neville, and one glance behind revealed something similar. "Or not..." he mused, thinking just what to do with two brooms facing in opposite directions.

To the people on the ground it seemed that the two boys were suspended mid air for an eternity. It was better than what was happening before, Hermione thought, who nearly bit her fingers off on couple of occasions when Harry attempted his rescue.

Then, as if pushed by the breeze, the brooms started rocking. First one way, then the other, the brooms rocked back and forth like some gigantic invisible swing, from which only the two boys and their seat reminded visible.

Still, people turning their head this and that way finally noticed that whatever was happening, was at least getting the pair back to ground, since, with every swing the boys were nearly a foot closer to the ground.

Finally, at one particular pass, they were close enough to touch the ground, and they dug their heels deep, like any kid wanting to stop a swing would. While Harry held onto his broom, making a twirl and a bow a dancer would do on an end of the perfect dance, Neville stumbled couple of steps further, with his broom digging deep into the ground, and him holding tight onto it, like if it was the only steady thing he had in his entire life.

Harry straightened, and noticing his stunned, dazed and confounded audience, he took a step in their direction, spreading his arms wide as if to encompass all of them, while he still held his broom. Hermione couldn't resist the feeling that, if only he had a top hat in the other hand, he would be a perfect magician.

"And that, my dear fellow students, is how you save your friend from falling,"Harry said with a slight bow of his head.

His words were short lived, since that was exactly the moment when Neville noticed that he was on the ground again, and ,having the opportunity to relax, he did just that, finally falling into the oblivion.

Hearing the resounding thud, Harry turned, blinked, and with "Well damn it!" on his lips, threw his broom in exasperation at such a blatant sabotage of his act, before storming off.

* * *

Just two steps into the shadows reigning over the castle during a sunny day, he heard a voice from a darkened corner.

"Well you think you are so great now, don't you?" came the question, and Harry stopped, looking at a figure coming forward.

"Really, I think that?" Harry asked, confused. By now he knew the self proclaimed prince of Slytherin, the Malfoy boy, always flanked by two weak minded, but quite heavily bodied classmates.

"You all Gryffindor's do flashy stunts and consider yourself great for doing dumb things." Malfoy said in his usual drawling voice.

"Really, we do?" Harry asked again, always using a voice of a complete idiot, almost as if he had to be remained about a thing he just finished doing.

"Don't mock me, I'm twice the man you are!" shouted the pale boy, quickly loosing his cool.

"Well..." Harry started, doubtfully. He knew the pattern of this kind of conversation by heart. Even though the boy before him was slim, he had a hard time not calling him Dudders.

"Truthfully, they might be twice as me," Harry continued, gesturing to Draco's goons. "But you? You don't strike me as a heavy type. How much did you say you weight?" he asked, genuinely interested. Even if he was trying to unsettle the blonde boy, he knew of dozens of cases where such knowledge could prove quite useful.

"That's enough!" the pale boy whose cheeks got really red really quick shouted. "I challenge you to the wizarding duel!"

"Now, why would you do that?" Harry asked, stopping his act and clearly becoming immensely interested in the answer to that question.

"W-what?" Draco stuttered, the sudden change in the atmosphere catching him by surprise.

"I thought formal duels should be called only when you wanted to end a dispute or defend your honour," Harry replied offhandedly. True, he was guessing, but seeing just in how many places wizarding world and medieval times were indistinguishable, he was certain that particular bit haven't changed.

The way Malfoy stiffened was more than he needed to know that he got it spot on. That only made that glint in his eye to light up, as he had another chance to give trouble to a person who came looking for it. That happened to him more and more these days.

"You know," Harry continued as if nothing changed, still using that clueless, innocent tone of voice. "It would be a shame if we got to the duel itself and it was just a huge misunderstanding," he said, as if sharing a big piece of advice between friends. Seeing the blonde still standing there, flanked by his goons, trying to get the better of the situation, Harry got right to the main thing he wanted to share.

"I mean, all the mess that could result from that one. An arm or leg blown off could be the least of our troubles. I might not know much about magic, but I'm trying to get up to speed. I've read in one of the books that it's possible to flip a person inside out! Considering just how many mistakes an untrained wizards like one of us can make, I fear just how likely it could be. Imagine that? Being flipped inside out? All the gore outside... but with your clothes instantly packed in that leather suit you are... And your wand too! Imagine having to put it through your mouth to be able to cast again... Draco? You're leaving already?" Harry asked, looking curiously at the boy sprinting down the corridor.

When the quick footsteps faded, he became aware of the two remaining figures, leaning against the wall and...

"Oh dear," Harry commented when he noticed the details of that particular picture. "Those must have been some real nice shoes. Let me help you clean that up."

One look at him, standing there, fumbling with his wand, a look on his face closely resembling that of a dimwit trying to remember how to tie his shoes, was all the incentive for the two boys to go and chase after their leader.

When they rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight, Harry turned to Magie with a sly smile on his lips. She just winked at him, her job of adding visual help to his act done, she disappeared as he went his way, whistling a merry tune.

* * *

It wasn't long before Harry Potter became the topic of every conversation in the castle. It was also the norm when it came to the teachers.

"I wonder, what are your thoughts on Harry Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked during one of the meals, looking both ways along the staff table, waiting for someone willing to share.

A sharp scraping sound made most of the teachers turn and look at Severus, who, hearing the question, managed to cut his stake in half, while throwing the bigger part off of his plate in the process.

The piece of meat didn't make it to the ground, vanishing before it even got half way there. In the same moment, a fresh stake appeared on the Potions Master's plate.

"Oh, I have to say that he has quite the character," Professor Flitwick, sitting on the opposite side of the table and unaware of the commotion, was first to answer Minerva's question. "He has quite the brilliant mind, and the most wonderful sense of humour," he continued with a chuckle, speaking as if he had found his long lost friend, who he thought was dead for a long time.

"And the way he handles the broom..." Madam Hooch added, as if speaking out an end to some kind of internal debate. Noticing that she got the attention of the group, she sighed.

"Fliers like that don't come in often enough. Well, after first lesson, his flying had been... tame in comparison, but it's still quite the show," she said, clearly visualising something from Harry's repertoire.

"I know that first years don't usually make the teams, but I guess that there is a first time for everything," she commented, and that statement earned another scraping sound from couple of seats down the table. "How could he ride those brooms like that?" she asked out loud, but clearly too deep in her own thoughts to expect any answer.

"I've noticed quite the same thing," Minerva finally spoke her own thoughts. "It's clear he has a brilliant mind when he is learning something he finds interesting. But at the same time, when his mind isn't immersed in a certain subject, it seems like if he's a completely different person, with no regard for anything anyone thinks..." she stated, seeing others nod their agreement, probably also wondering just how that kind of a mix could be possible.

A merry chuckle disturbed such a thoughtful moment, and everyone turned to stare at Hagrid, who laughed cheerfully while slowly finishing his meal.

Seeing that all eyes were at him, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Don't worry Professors. Harry is just playing with your heads," was the only thing he said, before getting up from the table and walking out of the Great Hall.

During one of his regular visits in Hagrids hut, Harry stated just that, to somehow alleviate the giant's doubts when it came to the stories filling the castle. Every single one much more outlandish than the one told the previous day.

And maybe if it had been said by someone else, or simply mentioned at another time, the idea might have some weight. But stated offhandedly like that, by Hagrid no less, it was probably the perfect way for people to disregard the blatant truth of that statement. Certainly, teachers sitting at the table just there simply looked at one another, simply shook their heads at the strange idea, and discarded it in an instance.

"Well, it seems another spectacle is going on at the Gryffindor table," Pomona Sprout commented, seeing a large group gathering around the first year's part of the table. "But those can hardly be called fans," she added when Professor McGonagall hurriedly wiped her lips with a napkin, and with an hurried excused, rushed to investigate.

* * *

Harry was having a quite dinner after a day that was filled with work. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't convince people that what they had in their heads was really not his problem, and they shouldn't go around forcing it on him, like if it was his fault that they were wrong more often than not.

He was hoping to get some rest, but just couldn't resist when, out of nowhere, a chance to teach this simple truth to another fellow man appeared. Maybe this time he will successfully drive the point home. Well, he was hopeful like that. Even while knowing Hope personally. And knowing how she treated her children.

"Potter, you will stop it," came an angry growl, and, when he turned, Harry noticed the mob standing behind him, with the biggest, meanest of them all standing right in front of him.

"We have enough. You just don't get it, do you? It isn't just about you, you know. With the things as they are now, I can honestly say that what we had before was pure heaven in comparison. So you... you... What the hell are you doing!?"

At first, the ringleader was so set on tearing Potter a new one, that he didn't notice what happened after his initial statement. But even in his rage driven mind, he couldn't omit the fact that the boy started changing colours.

Slowly, but surely, Harry turned from that healthy fleshy pink to red, that deepened into a beautiful crimson. Darkening still, Harry visibly turned blue, something most people in the group thought impossible until they saw it just then. From there it went down hill quickly, when hints of green blossomed on Harry's face.

Normally, Hermione would have thought that he was choking, and tried to somehow save him. But she stopped, that doubt that was filling her life whenever she was close to Harry Potter reappearing, and instantly she wasn't sure if he was really choking, or was he just having another one of his merry moments, when nothing made sense, but he somehow managed to have his way at the end of it all.

When Harry's eyes, heavily tinged with red, started popping from the sockets, the ringleader simply couldn't go on any more, resulting in the exclamation.

Hearing it, Harry opened his mouth, coughing and gasping, sending couple of bits of his meal left in his mouth flying right onto the man's shoes. He stayed there, his head bowed low, as he wheezed and gasped for air. He held his hand up, with only his index finger pointing to the ceiling, clearly indicating that he just needed one minute before he would happily go back to where they left off.

"I'm sorry, I tried, but that yell startled me," Harry stated, with his breath at least somewhat levelled. Seeing the way people were looking at him, as if he was some sort of alien, slimy creature from another planet, he explained more fully.

"You told me to stop..." he stated, as if it should explain everything. "I didn't know what to stop, so I stopped everything," he added, seeing how people were just staring at him. "You shouldn't ambush people like that, you know. I might have died," he said, hurt, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that if he wanted to, he really could hold his breath until he died.

That was the moment that Professor McGonagall arrived at the scene.

"What seems to be the problem here?" she asked right off the bat. With her skilled eye of a long time teacher, it took her no time at all to find the leader of this group, and ask him, directly, just that question.

"Potter here is making everyone's time at Hogwarts a living hell," the boy replied, his mind still not over the things the raven haired boy said just before Transfiguration Mistress arrived.

Minerva raised her eyebrows at that, turning to look at Harry disbelievingly, only to receive the same amount of confusion back from him.

"And how is he doing that, if I might ask?" she asked, willing to entertain this conversation a little while longer.

"Well..." the leader started, but his mind worked well enough for him to get a certain revelation. That there were times when you thought something, but when you said it out loud it sounded wrong, lame or simply awkward. He was certain that this was such a moment.

Unfortunately, others in the group haven't arrived at the same conclusion.

"He's smiling!" called someone from the back of the group.

"Smiling?" Professor McGonagall blinked, caught off guard by that kind of an answer. "He's smiling at Professor Snape?" she asked again, just to make sure. All the nodding in the group made her wonder why she haven't simply ended the dispute when she had the opportunity to do so.

"And he's respectful!" someone else supplied, at which there were more calls of enraged approval, as if just thought of something like that was enough to disgust most of the people in the group.

Minerva was standing there, hearing all the accusations, and didn't quite understand if this was for real, or was this meant as a joke that in the end wasn't that funny. Turning to look at Potter again brought no help at all, as he looked at her back, still that confused look on his face, and he shrugged helplessly, as if to say 'Don't ask me. The hell if I know...'

"He's acting nice all the time!" the suggestions kept coming, even as more and more people from the group finally started listening to what exactly was being said.

"Sweet even..." the last sentence, hanging in the air, finally broke the group conciousness that made so many stampedes possible, as every single person wondered just how has the situation arrived at such a point.

"The thing is," the man leading the group continued, hoping to somewhat save the cause that was most certainly lost. "Because of... whatever he's doing, Professor Snape became a real monster," he stated, looking towards his Head of House, and seeing clearly that she nearly reached her limit.

"It's impossible to learn anything any more," he tried, hopelessly. But with this last attempt, he scored an ace.

Minerva McGonagal would have a hard time listening to anything else for much longer. Not when she was in the mood that this particular group managed to get her into. But with a single word about Hogwarts not teaching what it was supposed to, her Head of House persona was replaced by the Deputy Headmistress, and stretched her patience long enough for her to ask.

"How so?"

The group took this as a heavenly intervention, and, as to not spoil this sacred opportunity to be heard out, they thought long and hard before they opened their mouths.

"It isn't just that Professor Snape is scary..." someone from the group started timidly.

"It's more that you can't think straight when he's in the room," another person finished, with people around nodding their approval.

"It sometimes feels as if he is right in my mind," a person spoke in a whisper, clearly heard in a silence that fell on the chastised group.

But that single statement made Minerva's head snap to the person speaking, and she stared at the girl in question with unbelieving min.

"Say that again?" Professor McGonagall whispered back, unable to believe that what she though could be true.

"Well, Professor," a more imaginative member of the group started, coming up with a comparison. "When you're all home alone, and the lights are out, and suddenly something starts scratching against the walls, or floors, or even against the front door... And you don't know what it is... The fear that grips you and paralyses your every muscle..."

It was clear that just talking about it made that person go through agony, and the image was so clear, and so well fitted the feeling, that the pain on other faces was quite the impulse about the truth this story carried.

"It's something similar," the story continued, building towards the climax. "But instead of the house, it's your head, and you can't even start to wonder about the thing creeping around your mind."

There was a second of silence when the world stopped, and then:

"SEVERUS!" Professor McGonagall yelled, silencing that part of the Great Hall that wasn't already listening intently to catch as much from the even as they could. She turned on her heel, and with long strides nearly ran back to the Head Table.

The confused group that was left, slowly lost it's members when people started drifting away, unsure about what exactly happened.

Through the entire conversation Professor McGonagall was having with the mob that came to lynch him, Harry looked from one to the other, like a kid who was watching the pendulum of a grandfather's clock, watching as the minutes ticked away till the midnight, when the Christmas would finally come.

At the enraged call, the glint in his eye was the only hint of satisfaction that he got from this turn of the events. It was missed with the eruption of the storm Minerva.

By the time someone looked at him again, he was back again picking at his meal, mindless of the pandemonium that erupted when Professor McGonagal assaulted Snape, and other teachers caught the wind of what exactly she was accusing him of.

"How?" a hoarse question torn Harry from thinking if he should have another roll before bed.

He turned, and saw Hermione looking at her expectantly, with Neville, who throughout the proceedings was too afraid to be dragged into the procedings to move, watching him too, finally lifting his gaze from the table.

Seeing just how tense she was, how agitated over the span of minutes that the situation needed to play out she had become, he didn't play any more games, and answered her, thinking that he might actually get killed tonight if he didn't do it right away.

"There are couple of ways to deal with a problem," he said, thoughts of the food forgotten when he straddled the bench to face Hermione fully. "A building, lets say, that is crumbling and almost uninhabitable," he said, and even when he saw that she scowled at that, he knew that a little context would help her to understand the conclusion.

"You can try to fix it. Redo the walls. Repaint it. Buy new furniture and what not. But it requires time, money and a lot of effort. And it doesn't fix the problem. Even if living in that building would be nicer, the problem isn't in the exterior, but in the walls themselves. The integrity of the construction. It's crumbling, and whatever make up you put on it, it'll eventually fall," he said, and was glad to see Hermione calming down, following the story he was telling, and thinking it through on her own.

"Then you can do nothing. You can just live in an old, battered down apartment and endure all of it's shortcomings until the bitter end, hoping that your next place will be better. But again, it's troublesome. It takes a whole lot of endurance. And even if at the start you think that it won't be so bad, over time it only leave bitterness, apathy or anger in every single room," he said, and she nodded, thinking that in most cases it was like that.

Her anger gone, she turned to face him, knowing that he had another thing, which he left for last. Something he knew to be best and used it to cause all of this.

"Then you can pick up a sledgehammer and start breaking the walls down," he said, and watched her.

Just like he thought, the order loving mind Hermione possessed made her stumble at that, the logical chain of events broken in an instance. It was clear that she couldn't understand how destruction helped anything.

Not waiting for her to get angry again and jump onto him with a pack of questions, he used her confusion to make her question the world, wonder, and finally see the logic in the chaos.

"Why should you spent time, money and effort on something when it will eventually come to naught? You shouldn't. Why should you endure your mold driven, cold and hollow home? You shouldn't. Then it's best to level the building, burn the ruder down to the ground, and build something new and better on that spot. It causes problems, true. But at the end of it, after all that trouble, you at least end with the home you always dreamed off."

Harry finished, and watched Hermione for a while. She was no longer angry, or focused on him that much for that matter. Even while she was facing him, she no longer looked at him. Her gaze was unfocused, while her analytic mind had a new item to consider.

Not disturbing her, he stood, nodding to Neville, and went for another tour of the castle.

Hermione in the meantime thought deeply about what Harry told her. She finally understood how he could be two things at once, and still make sense. He really was a person with a plan. He really had things figured out, and kept his finger on the pulse, checking when he should make adjustments.

But at the same time, he didn't go with social norms too well, because they only stood in his way. People didn't want to be corrected, fixed, or even bothered by anything. They were lazy gits, something she knew for a long time, seeing how her classmates complained about their scores, but never read on their own.

They would rather do nothing, living in a bad situation, rather than get up and do something about it. And even if some really would like to do something, their ideas would quickly find themselves discredited, with the rest of the society beating them down for simply raising their voice.

Because most of the people believe that a known threat is much more appealing than an unknown chance.

That's why Harry didn't pay that much attention to people around him. He didn't have that restriction to play the bad guy, someone who everyone else would but the blame on. Because he saw what needed to be done, and he did them. It wasn't about everything working his way. But simply being in their right place.

He might seem like a man who is putting the paintings right in a burning gallery, but that was just the sort of world they were living in, and one person couldn't fix everything on their own, now could they?

She stood up, looking around the hall to see what came of the previous situation.

Seeing how Dumbledore that had finally arrived had to pretty much physically ward off Snape from other teachers, Hermione had no reason to foresee any trouble from the Potions Master. She didn't knew what repercussions he would meet, but certainly he won't have the time to pester students any more.

She smiled, a first slight smile since Harry got into her head with all the things he did. She wasn't afraid of anything else he might do. Actually, she became expectant now.

She couldn't wait to see more of what he could do. Do what she did best, observe and analyse this new puzzle. The boy who was studious and carefree at the same time. A mind with insane logic contained in it. A boy who picked both sides of the coin and always rolled seven with a dice. An agent of order and chaos.

Because, even if she wouldn't call it that, she became fascinated with this impossible boy.


	7. Peculiar friendships

I don't own Harry Potter. I would feel weird if I were to own a person. Even if he is fictional.

* * *

As for a magical school, first years weren't doing much magic. Well, if you think about it, fact that you have your hands and legs since birth, don't mean you can walk and write that long. So even if you have magic your entire life, it doesn't mean you know how to use it. And if you make mistake, you wouldn't just fall, but you could blow everything up, or end up with buffalo on your chest. That's why every spell students did, was preceded with some time of theory and practice before any attempt of actual casting. That's why, for first years, Halloween this year had that little bit magic more in it... even if it was celebrated in magical castle with ghosts, real bats, and everything else.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Harry said, doing well practised pattern with his wand, but his feather didn't move.

'Do that again.'

He looked around, and finally noticed Magie standing on the back of his chair, looking over his head.

'You really don't do normal, do you?' Harry asked jokingly.

'Just do that again.' was her only reply, which startled him. From what he remembered, this was probably first time when he saw her being this serious.

Confused, Harry did the patterns and said words again, and quickly glanced at Magie. She was staring at her hands while flexing her fingers.

'What is it?' he asked at her thoughtful expression.

'They're tingling.' she answered, then looked at him, his wand, and lastly at the feather in from of him.

Smiling, she vanished, and when Harry turned, she was in front of him blowing at the feather making it hover couple of feet in the air.

"Oh, well done you two!" cried Proffesor Flitwick. Only then Harry noticed that one other feather was in the air, and that it was Hermione's. Rest of the class was sulking, and many were muttering that it was impossible. He looked back at Magie, and she just winked and vanished, leaving him puzzled over the feather that floated back to the desk.

He was brought back from his thoughts by the sound of people gathering their things and leaving, which confused him, because while musing he missed the bell that ended the class, and as he was looking around to see what was going on, he noticed Hermione fleeing the classroom with tears running down her face. He quickly gathered his things and followed.

As he entered the bathroom, he wondered why girls would most preferably go there in situations like this. Hearing sobs that were coming from cubicle furthest from the door, Harry slowly made his way in that direction, not certain what to do now.

"Who is it?" came scratchy voice, as Hermione heard his footsteps echoing throughout the room.

"Room service..." Harry replied, trying to make things light.

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you."

"Go away! This is girls bathroom."

"Well, OK. I'll wait outside..." Harry said, and turned around to do just that.

"Just go away! Why would anyone bother with someone like me..." was said in a breaking voice.

"And who someone like you would be?"

At that Hermione got very quiet, mumbling something incoherent between short intakes of breath.

"Let me guess. Someone said something mean to you and you get back at them by locking yourself here... I must say this plan of your's is a little too complicated for me, but if you thought it out, I am sure they'll regret it in the end..."

"Harry, don't be daft!" She snapped at him, but there was a slight chuckle in her voice now.

"Since I'm terrible at guessing, what's wrong?" he asked while sitting and leaning against the wall.

Then Hermione told him how she heard Ron Weasley telling someone how she was awful that no one could stand her, and it was no surprise that she had no friends.

Harry just replied "Well, I'm here."

After a couple of long sniffs, Hermione opened the door, and peaked outside with her puffy eyes, which one trip to school nurse was enough to take care of. That trip was also their excuse for missing class, saying that Hermione didn't feel well, so Harry had to take her.

The rest of the afternoon went without anything happening. After class Harry accompanied Hermione to the common room, because she wasn't feeling like celebrating, and so they missed the whole troll episode that the school was going through.

And even if there are things that in one instant bring people together, being there for each other on daily basis, seems to work better in the long run.

* * *

AN. Lets just say that in this fic, this far they did only theory, and sine Charms are less dangerous than Transfiguration or Defence, its their first spell cast in class. That way I don't have to think where to put Magie's reaction.


	8. Freefalling

In how many different ways one have to say "I don't own Harry Potter" to get it through? And to think that people say they understand what they are reading...

* * *

November came, and with it Quidditch season. The whole School was buzzing with excitement over the rumour that Harry Potter would be playing as Seeker for Gryffindor. And it was just all right with the whole team, that they talked only about that. Because nothing stayed secret at Hogwarts, so not releasing players list got people suspicious, and they started to dig. Harry playing as Seeker wasn't the real secret. The secret was what he would be riding.

Poffesor McGonagall did bend some rules to allow Harry to have a broom, even thou he was a first year, but it taken her longer than one evening. And so even as she had the broom itself stocked in her private quarters, Harry couldn't use it. It was only a couple weeks later that Wood gave him a Nimbus Two Thousand saying that it was his new broom.

"Wha..?" asked startled Harry.

"Proffesor McGonagall ordered it in your name, so its yours. She kept it while paperwork allowing you to actually have it, was being filled. And we didn't want to make a big scene when it would be delivered to you. Imagine how would it look if you would get this at a meal time."

"Yeah." answered Harry, gazing at his new broom with admiration.

"But I'm not giving you this because you can have it now." that got Wood Harry's full attention again. "I'm giving it to you because you now know how to use it. Riding a old battered broom builds your control skills, cause you can't learn to deal with problems when there is nothing wrong, right? It wouldn't be good giving you fast broom for your first training just so you can crash it..."

So even if whole school knew that Harry would play, barely anybody seen him play, and nobody mentioned his broom at all. And it was how Wood liked it.

But being youngest player in the century, did bring even more attention to Harry. Good as well as bad kind of it. But it wasn't that bad because Slytherin's were tempered down, since their Head of House was busy with answering questions regarding points that he had taken throughout his teaching carrier, so he couldn't get his pupils out of trouble as good as he did before. Some of the Slytherins noticed that "Everyone for themselves" wasn't the answer in every situation. As for the rest of the school, they preferred taking jabs at the other team in the spirit of support of their house, rather than hateful taunting just for the fun of it.

But when it came to it, game itself didn't look like anything anyone had expected.

It started as any normal game would, with teams trying to get the upper hand over their rivals. But high above other players and commotion in the stands, Harry circled in search of the Snitch, which showed itself for a moment just to vanish just as fast.

The real turn in the events of the game begun when Harry noticed that he no longer had control over his broom. But then it only got worse as his broom started to gain speed and buckle more violently with every passing second. With one of the more sudden jerk, he was swung off his broom, and had to hang only on his hands. It was in this moment Harry realised that when you found yourself in a situation like this, when you really didn't want to fall, you just couldn't resist to look down. And what he saw there confused him to no end.

Below him, Magie was lying on the field, staring at the sun shining through her fingers on her outstretched hands. At least it looked that way, until he remembered a certain Charms class not so long ago. As soon he remembered it, he just let go.

Whole school watched in horror as Harry Potter went into head dive from nearly hundred and fifty feet. But it didn't end with him all over the field, as he began to gradually slow down, making back flip in the last moment to safely land on all fours.

People in the stands were shocked to silence as Gryffindor team went to check on him, one of the Weasley twins with his broom in tow. As they neared him, they saw him shaking, which they could understand as a shock reaction from such a fall. But they couldn't understand why there seamed to be a chuckle ringing through the silence.

Then Harry lifted his head and grinned at them with Snitch held tightly between his teeth. After that there was nothing anyone could say any more. There was only so much shock you could live through in couple of minutes time.

Of course, when people came down from the emotions, there was loudest cheer that this particular Quidditch pitch ever heard, and a party to celebrate a catch that would remembered for a long time.

* * *

AN. If you want to complain that he wouldn't be powerful enough to do that at such a young age... then I say that I'm a fan of idea that magic is divided into power, intent and will. Maybe he wasn't powerful enough, but he had a lot of will to not die. Or he released nearly all his magic in that spell. Or... Its a fiction, deal with it and go bother someone else.


	9. Questions, answers and more questions

I must say that this latest edition of "not me" is making J. K. Rowling a little left out. But if anybody would ask me, I would have to play it to...

* * *

If speculations before the game, about if Harry would be any good, was topic entire school talked about, conversations after it didn't even compare, even thou topic was changed. Now nobody asked if Harry could play. Now they argued what stunt will he do next. Half of the school was of the opinion that if this was just his first game, what would follow? The other half argued that it was a first impression thing, and you couldn't possibly top that now that people were expecting it.

But even in that madness, there were some that thought just a tad more logically, asking questions that came down to simple "How the hell did he do that?". Harry's account of events was that he was thrown off the broom, and as he was falling, he tried Hover charm that they practiced all week with wand he had hidden in the sleeve of his protective gear. But as with everything that had a celebrity, a major event, and some amount of uncertainty in it, soon gossip blossomed and with time matured to something of a conspiracy theory, with Harry Potter, secret training, and overwhelming powers in the middle.

Harry could nearly believe the story he used to explain his survival, if not for jumping instead of being thrown off, the thing with him not casting any kind of spell, and of course, fact that there was no wand anywhere near him. So, using the chaos, he himself had to think what happened that day.

'Ruining the carpet won't help you much.' Magie told him a couple of days later, as he paced the common room at a late night hour, again being unable to sleep. 'Relax.'

Harry dragged his feet to an armchair, weary of some of the ideas that were swimming in his head. He sat down, closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. When he felt a little more relaxed, he opened his eyes again, and saw that Magie now sat cross legged on a table right in front of him.

'Any ideas?' asked Harry after couple of minutes of silence while they only looked at each other.

'Maybe this, there is a saying... what was it exactly...' he waited while Magie formulated her thoughts. 'Ah, yes. It says something about answer staring you in the face.' at which she looked at him meaningfully. Harry almost slapped himself on the forehead over the pun that she just made.

'Yes, I know that it was you. But I don't know how...'

'Well, I told you already that I can feel what you want or intend to do. You didn't want to break your neck falling from that broom, so you didn't.'

'But isn't magic supposed to be done with wands?' Harry asked while retrieving mentioned object from his pocked and looking at it as if to find an answer written over it.

'If it is like that, then how did those strange incidents were possible when you didn't know about magic at all?' responded Magie.

In fact, Harry didn't think about this before. On the sorting nights feast, first years talked about how they knew they were magical, trading stories about different accidents that happened to them when they were young. Anybody magical did it before, and when they got to school they were handed wands straight away. Now that Harry thought about it, it was like anybody who had hands and instead of learning how to paint, play an instrument or just write, would go to computer and generate an image, put some sounds together in a program, or use a keyboard.

Of course some may say that tools like computers make things faster and better... Of course they do, but time spend to master such a tool, know how it worked and be somewhat proficient in using it still counts as the time you practice your skills. And after all that learning you need to practice loads more to produce something that anybody would say is good, not even a masterpiece, from the masses of people that use the same tool. After all, easier to do, doesn't equal better results.

Of course tools are useful. But, as always, those tools have to be there and be ready to be used. Without electricity the whole information system, every phone, TV, radio wouldn't work. Without fuel people living on the outskirts of big cities wouldn't know how to get to work or for shopping because it was such a long way. Then all the people who depend on their tools would just sit and wonder what to do, and in the meantime all the rest would grab their instruments and play some more music, paint another thing, or just walk or jog to the nearest shop.

Why wouldn't magical community be the same? Use some tools, learn how to operate it, and sit back instead of learning how to use to the fullest what they had from birth.

But that still didn't answer one of his questions.

'Even if I can do it without it, what about magic with it? I couldn't make any spell work.' asked Harry rolling his wand between his fingers and looking at Magie again.

'I don't know. When you do it, I feel a tingling, something like pins and needles. It isn't unpleasant, just itchy. Like I must do something. But since I know what you try to do, why not just ask me for help?'

'Can we try it?' she just nodded. 'Can you lift that pillow?' asked Harry pointing to the couch, at which Magie's laughter rang through his head. 'What are you laughing at?' he asked while glaring at her.

'How many times I have to tell you I can feel it, you don't have to say it. Just concentrate on it.'

Harry looked back at the pillow and concentrated, nearly imagined, that it lifted into the air. After a moment it really did. He looked back at Magie, but she wasn't there any more. In fact, she wasn't anywhere to be seen. At his surprise, the pillow fell back on the couch.

'You have to concentrate dummy.'

'Right, you don't have to be here, to be here.' though Harry to himself.

'Want to try something else?'

'Maybe some other time. I need to find out how this thing works before I do some stupid mistake that can't be reversed or something like that.' at that, he could hear her giggle. 'I think I'll go to sleep now.' He stood up and went to bed, with totally different set of questions to investigate.

* * *

AN. That saying "I don't have to be here, to be here". There was a fic (don't really know if it was parody) but it had someone imitating Dumble-speach, saying something without really saying anything. In the original it went "As soon as we'll know, we'll know." Anybody know this fic, I just cant find it.

There are many fics saying that wizards are lazy and illogical or anything like that, because they don't have to be, they have magic. May I point out that they are still people? Wizards are us after a couple generations, if we were handed a never ending wishing well, or something like that.


	10. Christmas mysteries

You won't find my name at the end of "Harry Potter is owned by" if you type it in Google...

* * *

After that night, Harry went to the library at any opportunity, and spent there as much time as he could. Of course, Hermione would be there most of the times too, and they soon came up with a schedule of doing homework and extracurricular reading. Neville would join them for the homework part, always complaining how useless it would be for him to study in advance if he couldn't even master what they were learning at that time. Hermione would usually tell him that it is better to read up, because even if you don't understand everything, when the time comes, you at least know what to look at to see important points. Harry on the other hand would say that he was selling himself cheap because of his low confidence.

Between homework, classes and Quiddich practices, Harry didn't have much time to find what part of magic Magie fit into. In fact, he only started with that, but number of questions multiplied with every passing minute spent in the library. It is if a child ask simply if people can fly, seeing somewhere a bird, and you hand it books for maths, physics, navigation, modern technology... simply put everything you need to build and fly a plane. So, it wasn't any surprise that even as Christmas break came, Harry didn't accomplish anything more than make himself more and more confused with mass of information that he had read so far.

It wasn't any surprise either, that with his mind trying thing any connection between what he had read lately and what was happening with his magic, he was walking not really looking where he was going. But it wasn't common occurrence when he bumped into someone while doing it. This particular surprise happened when he was leaving Potions classroom, and everyone suddenly stopped moving. Looking around he noticed blocked exit, but more importantly Weasley and Malfoy going at each other.

Fight didn't get too far because Snape showed up, and of course started docking points from Gryffindor, even thou Hagrid told him that it was a provoked attack.

"Be as it may, Fighting is against Hogwarts rules." was all he said at that. All that was done in mid stride, like he wasn't even paying attention. Well until a voice reached him from the silence that spread among the students.

"Fighting is against Hogwarts rules, but insulting others is not?" asked Harry from his spot in the crowd, which immediately parted to let the new character onto the stage.

Snape had to stop his march and grit his teeth when he saw that innocently curious look on Potters face. "Malfoy, 2 points from Slytherin for badly worded opinion." As much as he didn't want to do it, he was caught in the middle of explaining himself from his entire carrier as a teacher and didn't need anything new, no matter how small, on the books. But while doing so he gave a pointed look to the young snake, who understood the hidden meaning as 'Don't be so obvious about it'.

After Snape walked away and Hagrid cleared the corridor everyone moved, seeing clearly that the show was over. When Harry arrived at the Great Hall and saw decorations, he realised that this was in fact last day of classes before the brake. He was staying in the castle, but it was more for the reason of nearly unrestricted time in the library more than going back to the Dursley's.

It wasn't that he hated it. It wasn't even about him having any particular feelings about it. Christmas at Dursley's was more about appearances than about real "Christmas spirit". First one that Harry could remember was like he was included in a battle strategy. Everyone had their positions and jobs to cover for it to work out. Of course Harry would do the chores and stay out of the way at the actual celebration, but he still knew about the plans regarding every event that happened during those days, and after you saw it couple of times, it was like listening to an old squeeze box. And no matter how lovely the tune is at first, when you hear it long enough you begin to notice the imperfections, like when a guest already knew a joke uncle Vernon was saving for that particular moment in the conversation, or when someone scratched holiday service of aunt Petunia, or even not so uncommon occasion that Dudley was too bored with his job to see it through. So, it was to Harry's advantage to be left out of it, having time for himself instead of being there to play part in the show. He heard about it enough as it was. And if he were to be there, he would no doubt be blamed about any mishap.

Staying in the castle during the brake, at least in theory, wasn't much different than going back. He still stayed mostly alone trying to figure things out. But people didn't have the same reasons that Dursleys had to leave him alone. At Hogwarts he was mostly regarded as a mysterious saviour of the magical world, but there was also a part of the community who wouldn't bother him because of the Snape incident. Some couldn't comprehend what was really happening and others were still mad at him because they were caught in the most violent of Potions Masters outbursts. And, obvious reason why Hogwart wasn't the same (totally omitting the comparison between a magical castle and a house in the suburbs) was that he had quite different set of things to think about.

But it all came to an end when he woke up on the Christmas day, and saw a small pile of packages at the foot of his bed. And with every passing present, it was more and more bizzare one. It relatively normal, with a box of Chocolate Frogs from Hermione. Well, if you can call charmed candies "relatively normal". Then it was a flute that, Harry guessed, was handmade by Hagrid. He mused a while at the meaning of this, and had a funny idea of Hagrid performing in a band on variety of instruments. But when he shook his head to clear his mind from that particular idea, he saw that there was a nicely looking Christmas card that the two previous presents were holding down.

On the back of it was written "We received your message and wish you a Merry Christmas." signed by Dursley's family as a whole. Harry thought that if anybody saw this card, it would be quickly dismissed as one that you send to a friend or relative that couldn't make it for the celebration, so completely normal. But it was quite a shock to see something like that, when at every other time it would be something closer to "If you know a way to completely vanish, do it.". And the weirdest part was that when he opened the last package, he was in possession of something that allowed him to do just that.

From the start he didn't know who it was from, so he opened it carefully, finding a note on the top of a strange looking material. Seeing that it was his fathers, he picked the cloak up and put in on his shoulders, just to see how it would fit him, if he was similar in build to his father, forgetting for the moment that he was only eleven years old. But when he looked down to tie it in place, he couldn't pull up the sleeves that were too long for him, because he couldn't see his hands. Moving to the mirror, he saw that everything that was covered by cloak, wasn't reflected.

He took it off, like always not wanting to use anything he didn't know about, and getting into trouble over some stupid mistake. But then he remembered that it was a present, and after hiding the cloak in his trunk, he looked at the note once more trying to think who might have sent it. But he didn't get too far with that because a half hearted "Merry Christmas" reached his ears.

Looking up, he saw that Ron Weasley, the only other boy from their year to stay for the brake, finally woke up. After yawning widely, he began to tore into his own pile of presents, considerably larger than Harry's. When he was done, he started to change into his things, his mood worsened by another maroon sweater. Ron was from the group in the castle that didn't like Harry because of what happened at every Potions lesson, and as he was in the same class, he was caught in the epicentre. Seeing a opportunity to take a jab at him, he said "Your presents are waiting in another room, so normal people don't get overwhelmed right?"

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry who looked up being suddenly pulled out of his thoughts.

"All that fan mail have to take loads of space..."

"What fan mail?" Harry was getting more and more confused, not making out what it really was about.

But whatever Ron was about to say, he didn't get to it as the door to the dormitory was flung open and the Weasley Twins bounded in with a loud "Merry Christmas". Then commenced a brotherly banter in which Percy got somehow caught in. Harry on the other hand minded his own business readying himself for another day, until "...even Harry will sit with us right?" which turned out to be Twins trying to convince Percy to sit with the common men instead of the higher ups. Not waiting for an answer the Twins shouted at everyone to get ready and went along their way.

Harry just shrugged, now that he couldn't do anything about him, and went back to his trunk to pick up wearable clothes, from everything that he got from Dursley's. But when Twins mentioned him, Ron remembered that Harry was in the room too, and he looked at Harry like he saw him for the first time. Why would saviour of the world be dressing in rags? Even his clothes that he got from his brothers didn't look that worked and patched up. The only new things that Harry had, seemed to be the things that every first year student bought. And only three presents for Christmas? If you could call what was now on Harry's bedside table presents, more like tokens really, while there were thousands wizards practically singing prayers about him. Even someone as hard headed as Ron could see that things weren't adding up with what he thought.

When Harry finally was ready to leave, he noticed Ron staring at him strangely. Taking a while to see if he wanted anything from him, he left confused at what really happened. Because how he was to know that Ron tried to find a way fit his imagined vision of pampered hero, getting whatever he wanted and getting away with doing anything he liked, into what he just now noticed about Harry.

* * *

Sometime during the day, Harry had to duck from the festivities, because if muggles were crazy with all the preparations, shopping, and decorating to be too stressed out or tired to make the fullest of the actual free time, wizards were crazy with what they did to celebrate, because everything before didn't take any time at all when done with magic. If they didn't eat, they played games, when they didn't do that, they were probably too tired to do much, so they rested until they could move again, but until then, they still had fun with magic. It was craziest variant of normal Christmas that Harry could think of.

So, when everyone else went for another round of snowball fighting, he lied that he forgot his gloves, and looked for somewhere to take a longer rest, from all that working out after heavy food that he could hardly eat any more of.

That's how he ended up in a room with the strangest mirror he had ever seen. There he saw himself among other people, some of which he guessed were his relatives. It was quite moving, and somewhat shocking, seeing his parents for the first time. The shocking part was that they were talking with Magie, and among other people in the mirror there were more of those peculiar conversations. Muggle's, wizards, friends of Magie were all mixed among each other talking to one another about something or other that he couldn't hear through the glass. And at whatever group he looked, they stopped and looked at him, probably waiting to hear his point of view on the actual subject.

When he finally got his mind back on track and started to look around to see if by some coincidence this vision wasn't true, he noticed the carvings on the to, gazing into the mirror and up again, he had to smile how a stupid mistake in grade school with letters wrote wrongly and teacher bringing a hand mirror to show you mistake, helps with answering a riddle in a magical world. After realising that it was getting late and one last look into the glass, he walked out of the room, just to bump into the Twins at the end of the corridor.

"And we so much wanted to come to your rescue." they said together.

"Well, thanks. I think that at some point I walked through a short-cut or something like that and I didn't know where I was." he quickly lied. "But how did you guys know where to look for me?" he asked first, not wanting to explain himself why it took him such a long time to come back.

"That, our young friend..." began one of the two.

"...is a pranksters secret." finished the other.

"If you will prove yourself... maybe one day... we'll share it with you." they continued speaking in similar fashion, saying the last part together with mischievous grins. As everyone else, Twins knew that Harry was responsible for the situation that Snape was now stuck in, and they couldn't wait what else could he come up with, because it was a true revelation to them that you could pull something like that, not only without breaking any rules, but without even trying very hard.

"Maybe later, now we still need to go back." answered Harry, after which they went to continue the celebration.

* * *

Late into the night, finding himself unable to sleep after all the heavy food, he at last had time to reflect on the events of that day.

'Have any good bedtime stories?' at which he immediately looked on his headboard, but he didn't find her there. After checking every possible place, he had to roll his eyes at where she would be now. But while doing that, he spotted Magie lying upside-down on the roof of his four poster bed.

'Why do you usually show up when I'm alone and assume the most ridiculous position imaginable?'

'Well, for the first one, It would be weird if you had to concentrate what to say out loud and what to say to me, if we were to talk in a crowd. And for the other, it's only ridiculous to you, to me, its quite comfortable... But I asked first if you had any bedtime stories for me.' at which Harry begun to describe events of the day.

'So, what's going to happen with the cloak?' she asked after he was done.

'I think I will leave it where it is, hidden in my trunk. If it is some lost forgotten relative or friend, then it looks like he just found this while cleaning, and remembered to return it. That someone don't really care what I do with it, and it can really get me in trouble. But if it is someone who really know that it is time and I am ready to have it, then he was checking on me, at least from time to time. Why not give it to me in person? Or maybe even someone needs me to do something with it... Its just so confusing, and I don't want to make it worse by doing something stupid.'

'And why didn't you find the mirror interesting enough to stay longer?' was her next question.

'Because if you put two mirrors near each other, like you have to do to read the writing at the top, and make them reflect one another, you can see something similar to a tunnel. And the nearer they are together, the further down the tunnel you can see. If you press them flat against each other, it would be safe to assume that you can see as far as infinity goes, but then you can't see the reflections... so the infinity looks the way you want it to, because you have no way of checking if it is true, and no proof that it isn't.'

'But there should be two mirrors put together.'

'And there were.'

At her confused look, he had to explain once again.

'People are mirrors, but not flat ones. If you pick one person and quiz about the world, some matters will be closer to them and some things won't interest them at all. Different people have different "reflections" on the world. That's why they can't pick one greatest thing in the world, because there is always someone who will think otherwise. That mirror just shows what I would like most.'

'And what would you like?'

'Like you said it yourself, just to be accepted.' he said with a smile on his face, and with the vision from the mirror, he at last fell into peaceful sleep.

* * *

AN. If you want to bash me that an eleven-year-old shouldn't say thinks like in the last part, then I say to you that "age" doesn't really have anything to do with when you were born, just when and how you start to grow up.

Now, the part about Christmas at Dursley's was written while I was watching a re-run of Chamber of Secrets in the TV, so it should be obvious from where I got the general idea.

Christmas card. They never got him any presents, so a Christmas card wasn't such a bad start indicating that what he said before had made (even slightest) impression on them. And besides, in canon they sent him fifty pence, how much more would you pay for a Christmas card? I bet it was more difficult for them to receive and send back the message, probably delivered by owl.

In canon, Harry was shy and kept to himself because of his upbringing. In this story he will still keep to himself (at least as long as it will suit me), but from different reasons. Its because if you leave children to make rules of the society just by observation, and show to them people who say one thing and then do something else, you don't get a trusting people as a result. And as I wrote before, Harry in this story is just the case.

Now, Harry by himself is fine by me for now, because ideas that I have don't fit into this time period. I have things planned a little for every year but mostly for the third and fourth, at which I don't know if to continue this story, end it (that's why most plans regard this point) and write sequel, or write totally different story. But back to the point. For now I will have Harry to read and study on magical theory. But that gives me another problem, one that if I do a theory, I like for it to be a good one. Complications right and left, but in the end, its more fun this way.

Can anyone guess what I mean by "just being accepted" in regards of this vision in Mirror of Erised?


	11. You have to have a plan

Still don't own Harry Potter, thanks for asking.

* * *

When classes started, Harry again had too little time and sometimes was too tired to concentrate on reading. Because if earlier Woods training techniques were tiring, now they became murderous. Announcement that Snape was refereeing didn't uplift teams spirit either.

"He's not going to be fair."

"Who made that decision and how drunk was he?"

"Is Hooch really that ill or something?"

Those and many more complains reached Woods ears after he told them that. Harry on the other hand wanted to know more, so when everybody calmed down he asked:

"Does he know ALL the rules?"

"What do you mean?" asked Wood, sensing that there was more.

"You don't bring people out of the street to referee a match, even when they know how game looks like, simply because there might be some sensitive rules or precedents..." Harry answered speculatively.

"Yes?" everyone asked at once, because from team support and better grasp on situation, they simply loved him for what he did to Snape last time.

"If we and Hufflepuffs don't like that Snape is refereeing, why don't we make it that he don't?"

Everybody thought about it for a while, and then grinned at each other. Training was ended for the day, and team spread throughout the castle to talk some more about what to do with that match.

Harry went back to Gryffindor tower to change and then for some more reading time, but while he was walking to the library he came across Neville hopping in direction of the common room.

"Harry, help!" he said leaning against a wall, breathing heavily from the work out.

"What happened to you?" Harry said while coming closer to him.

"Malfoy. I met him outside the library. Can you help me?"

"You got your wand?"

"Yes." Neville said while getting it from his pocket.

"Why not use it?"

"But I don't know the counter curse!" he said while getting a little depressed at how useless he was.

"Professor Flitwick taught us universal one." retorted Harry.

Neville looked at his wand, hesitating to use it, partly because he didn't want to make it worse, and in part because he didn't want another proof that he couldn't use magic.

"Just try it." Harry said, and when Neville looked at him, he simply nodded.

Concentrating, Neville did the Finite spell on his legs, and was released from the Leg-Locker Curse that Malfoy put on him.

"You see, you can do just fine on your own."

"But I can't. I loose my head and don't know what to do near people like Malfoy." said Neville in a small voice.

"You know, I think you should help him..."

"H-Help him?" asked quite baffled at what Harry just said.

"Yes. You should help him hide from Snape..." after which they had a conversation about small steps in improving yourself, because you couldn't expect to be first in everything, and getting depressed that you aren't don't get you anywhere. But by slowly working in your own pace, even if it is a little slower that anyone's else, in time may get you to mastery. But, more important than that, they talked about what to do with people who are too full of themselves.

* * *

Time went by seemingly uneventfully, and at last, the day of match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff came. It started pretty much normal. Teams went to get ready for the game while people got comfortable in the stands. Though it was quite a surprise that Dumbledore was attending the game, it wasn't unseen. Players got in positions, chest with balls was placed in the centre. All was set to go.

But it all went wrong after Snape announced to start the game. Truthfully, it didn't go anywhere... The only players that moved were beaters who intercepted bludgers and started to play a ping-pong kind of game between themselves. Rest of the players went to the middle and had a nice conversation tossing quaffle between themselves, not paying attention to stands full of people and especially to Snape, who at first was confused but now was shouting at them to play.

They ignored him, because as far as the rules went, balls were in play, and game couldn't end until the snitch was caught. There was simply no precedent to players not moving during the game, as long as there was no foul play which kept them immobilised.

After the training Harry made his suggestion, they went to Huffelpuffs team and thought together how to deal with situation that would be good for both teams, but not for Snape. And after going through rules book back and forth couple of times, they came up with this. As said before there was no previous situation to that kind of behaviour. But in the longest Quidditch game there was a case where they needed not only reserve players, but reserve referees as well. So, both teams went on adding people from backup list to their trainings, which ended up as normal Quidditch matches played on training time.

Now they only needed to wait long enough that Snape was too tired to referee.

Surprisingly they didn't need to wait as long as they expected, because not so long into non-game there was commotion in the stands. After all explaining was done it will be clear that Neville as always was late, and going alone, attracted attention of Malfoy who was just leaving moaning about stupidity of that game. Malfoy seeing a source of entertainment at once begun to taunt and insult Neville who quickly looked around and went even faster in direction of the stands with Malfoy in pursuit shouting louder and louder to make sure that his target heard him over the noise of conversations from the stadium. Malfoy was about to finish particularly snide insult about Gryffindor, when he finally noticed that in his anger at being ignored by Longbottom he came all the way after him to Gryffindor stands, and because of his shouting, his comments were heard by everyone from that House for quite some time. Of course situation was bad, but it got worse when Crabbe and Goyle started pushing people around to get out. Other Slyherin's seeing "fight" begun their own salve of insults about Gryffindor's always going many on few, totally forgetting about numerous staff near them.

Snape had to be brought down to calm his House and explain the situation before there was a battle in the pitch, and Hooch was again refereeing. Players went on with the plan of normal game with any other referee, but bringing order in the stands took long enough that the game was over before Snape could get back.

Later when Gryffindor's were celebrating Harry's another great catch, Neville thanked him about the tips and had to say that he was right saying that Malfoy would need help to hide from Snape, if the look on Snape's face while he was looking at Malfoy could say anything.

* * *

AN. First thing first. I won't be able to post till some time in next month, sorry.

It's a school where you can change your friend into a puddle of goo, if you do something wrong. Normal thing is to teach you how to fix it, just in case you need it, so every student should know at least basic Finite which worked well enough on hexes in duelling club in second book. Wait, I forgot that were talking about Hogwart. They don't teach anything that can keep you out of trouble, right?

Neville had some moments in the books showing that he could take care of himself, most memorable being Department affair. Now, if at every time people would show him how to do some things, but not do it for him, wouldn't it add to his knowing that he could manage on his own?

Malfoy is in Slytherin. Slytherins are supposed to be cunning. But until sixth year while he was working on the cabinet, I just don't remember him being cunning. I remember him telling anyone he thought was weaker than him how superior he is (as long as there wasn't any professor in sight), but getting beaten in the end. What's cunning about that?

Snape is supposed to have control over his feelings and everything. But there are moments when he is shown to loose his cool. Like when Harry sees his memories at one legilimency lesson, or nearly getting into a fight with Sirius in Grimmauld kitchen. And I think that he don't get frustrated because he can insult nearly anyone he wants. But if you make him "play nice", and the fact that Potter was again pranking him... Wouldn't he get frustrated? I'm not a Snape lover, but I don't think that anyone is "beyond redeeming". Only thing is, that person first need to at least begin to change, and until then, they deserve to be treated just like they treat others. So, I think I will bash Snape for quite some time, if not till the end of this story.


	12. And a solution

Every time I write a chapter I sit and think of a new way to tell you that I'm not the owner of Harry Potter... Hmm... This was fast...

* * *

Since Slytherin's made their business private, no one knew what really happened to Draco Malfoy. All they knew was that he disappeared from the school entirely, under excuse of "detentions". But it was quickly forgotten when teachers begun revision of years material on top of already planned lessons. As for Harry, it didn't change his schedule much, because he filled extracurricular reading time in the library with additional homework.

"I'm done for today. You guys?" asked Neville while gathering up his books.

"Yeah, I'm finishing last chapter." replied Harry. "Hermione?"

"Oh no. After I finish this essay I have to re-read couple of chapters..." said a girl in the middle of sea of notes and islands of books on top of it.

"Hermione, would you say that mind is like your body and needs to be trained to be in shape?" asked Harry.

"Well, yes..." was a careful reply.

"What would you do to your body if you would participate in Strong Man competition every single day?"

She tried to formulate an answer, but after noticing how much reading material was on her part of the table, all she could do was to give them a sheepish smile.

"Oh, all right. Short break couldn't hurt. I just need to gather everything..." she again looked at the pile... hill... small mountain of notes.

"I need to feed Trevor, so I can take our bags to the common room." proposed Neville.

After he was gone Harry and Hermione begun to place books back on their rightful place. They were nearly done when they spotted a giant jammed between the bookshelves.

"Hey Hagrid." they said together, which made him jump and drop books he was currently looking at.

"Oh, Hi, er..." he replied while trying to pick up books from the floor and put them back on the shelf in a way that would hide the titles. Being who he was, he failed spectacularly.

"Looking for something specific in dragon's section?"

"Well, just something to read..."

"You're just reading _Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit_?" asked Hermione while bending her head to better see title of the book that was sticking out of his pocket.

"Well... I... you see..." the hill sized man stammered while quickly looking around "Can we discuss this in my hut?" he finally managed to suggest.

They shrugged and after finishing cleaning their work space, they went with Hagrid to his hut, just to be confronted with a huge black egg, and a story from overjoyed Hagrid about how he got it.

"But aren't dragons dangerous?" asked Hermione while giving egg residing in the fire a doubtful look.

"Oh, not so much. They're just misunderstood."

"I wouldn't say that." replied Harry, who was looking through the book that Hagrid got out of the library.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione and Hagrid together.

"I wouldn't say they aren't dangerous with their armour of scales, sharp things sticking from nearly every place on their body, and fiery breath." answered Harry while flipping another page.

"Bu-But they aren't that violent..." pleaded Hagrid.

"Oh, I didn't say we can't coexist."

"WHAT!" shouted astounded Hermione.

"Nature have language of its own. There are certain colours, sounds, even smells that state "don't come near, or it will hurt" or when it comes to predators simply "RUN!". Animals know it from birth, or they don't grow up to be large animals. Humans on the other hand don't really care for those signs, because they can simply exterminate everything they don't like. So you get people putting houses in hunting territory, and then calling beast anything with fangs that comes to your home in the middle of the night in search of food. Living beside dangerous species is possible. Taking everything for ourself without a fight, not much so. Ah, here it is." said Harry finally finding information he was looking for. Placing the book in front of them, he pointed one particular passage.

_...Norwegian Rigdgeback dragon's, due to topography of the country they are native to, live in caves or grotto's high over their hunting grounds, which most commonly are found in fjord's. Their black coloured bodies, help them to hide and hunt down prey in the shade of the hill or even at night, and their slim and long body allow them to hunt underwater by fly-diving. Due to their upbringing on steep surface, they learn to fly and hunt in 6 to 8 weeks after birth, much faster than average dragon. Dragon breeders should be cautioned against keeping growing Norwegian Ridgeback in closed space for long period of time, which can produce claustrophobia leading to violent behaviour..._

They looked around the hut, which wouldn't be enough even for a half-grown dragon.

"So..." began Hermione breaking a long time of silence and looking first at Hagrid, who was sitting silently with downcast eyes, and then at Harry who was looking at the egg... "I know that look." she said at his thoughtful expression.

"What?" asked the raven haired boy brought from his thoughts, and after noticing state Hagrid was in he said. "I wouldn't worry about what will happen to your dragon. All we need is couple of letters." and he begun to explain what he thought was best to be done with an illegal dragon.

* * *

Time again resumed it normal course of flowing. Well as normal as it could when in magical surrounding. And like it was with time, people spent it to fulfil their plans, be it just studying, getting date for next Hogsmade weekend, even to those illegal... But for now, we should focus on revenge.

Draco Malfoy, even after all his punishment, couldn't control his ambitions, and right after getting back to general population, he begun to look for opportunity to get Longbottom in trouble. At least, that was his plan, until he noticed Potter's suspicious behaviour with his trips between library, owlery and that savages house for some kind of meeting behind closed doors and windows, always carrying some papers. It was just too evident that something was going on, and what would be better than putting Golden Boy in trouble. He was slowly loosing patience, till one day he caught sight of Longbottom, Potter and some girl hurrying to the hut, and a sign of newly hatched dragon was enough for him to go and report it.

Some twenty minutes later he was getting frustrated, having to repeat the same story about a dragon on school grounds, first to his Head of House then Headmaster, and finally to an auror who was brought due to regulations concerning this kind of situation.

"How many times I have to tell you that they have a baby dragon in there. They have to be expelled for it and..." but he didn't finish his animated speech, because Professor McGonagall entered Headmasters office with Harry Potter in tow.

"Excuse me, is it a bad time Headmaster?" asked transfiguration teacher while looking at the people gathered in the room.

"That depends what is it about, Minerva." replied the oldened wizard.

"Potter, if you will?" she said to her student.

"Yes, Professor. Headmaster Dumbledore, I would like to notify you about new dangerous animal on school ground and file paperwork for it's immediate transfer to a suitable reserve." Harry said in his most formal manner.

"What kind of animal?" he asked while looking over his half-moon spectacles between Malfoy and Harry.

"Baby dragon, sir."

Dumbledore just raised an eyebrow, Snape kept his poker face. Malfoy stood there, not understanding what was happening. Auror on the other hand, took the situation in totally different light than just some stupid kid exaggerating seeing a bat up close with dragon attack. Telling it differently, he started to freak out.

"You mean to tell me that there REALLY is an illegal dragon this close to kids?" he asked like he heard it first time, and mentioned dragon stood right behind him.

"A baby dragon, yes. But he's not illegal."

"WHAT? But laws forbid breeding dragons outside of reserves." said Malfoy who just reached his limit.

"Yes, but in case of illegal breeding grounds, qualified personnel can requisite any eggs or animals and place them in properly manned post. Rubeus Hagrid, as a Gamekeeper, having a choice between a dragon omelet and another dragon from a rare breed... Well, lets just say it wasn't a though choice. Paperwork informing that he was in possession of an egg of Norwegian Rigeback was filled shortly after he acquired it." in the middle of Harry's speech auror begun calling the ministry to verify it. Harry seeing that auror was still busy handed Dumbledore the transfer paperwork.

"Norberta?" asked amused wizard seeing first page of the form.

"Well, we wrote first name that came to our heads, but then it turned out that dragon was a girl..."

"Why wasn't this transfer form filed in earlier?" interrupted him auror who finished checking everything in the ministry, but still had to find some fault in the situation.

"It couldn't be any earlier." answered Harry.

"Why is that?"

"Because even if egg was here for a long time, dragon hatched only some thirty minutes ago."

"Dragon, dragon egg. I don't see any difference." replied auror in "who cares" kind of way.

"Well, dragons fly and breathe fire, while eggs are round and do only the breaking part." was Harry's own reply, delivered with a straight face.

After auror stopped and checked how conversation ended with such a sentence, he asked in different words, while closing his eyes and rubbing his temples to prevent a headache.

"I was trying to ask, why it is so important to wait till after the hatching."

"Well, egg once placed in the fire, must stay there undisturbed until the hatching. But even if there was a way to slow dying of the egg itself without any interference to the developing dragon, those forms needs information like gender, which can be checked only after dragon is out of the egg, or that tricky line when they ask age... of the dragon." Harry said last thing with slight smile on his face.

"But still, that egg was here without the knowledge of authorities." accused auror who still tried to make his intervention be a reasoned one.

"That isn't quite true." said Professor McGonagall who till this point stayed quiet. "Mister Potter came to me, a Deputy Headmistress, with this matter, since as Head of Gryffindor, he could reach me faster than Headmaster. I told him that since everything was well taken care of, he just keep me in touch. Today we are here just to notify Headmaster about people coming to take the dragon."

"Okay. Then tell me one thing. If all the paperwork is on Rubeus Hagrid, then why am I speaking to you?" asked auror looking through forms, trying to find any kind of mistake in it.

"Because someone had to stay near the egg, or now, the dragon, to make sure it was safe and not a threat to anyone at the same time. I was just helping Hagrid by carrying paperwork while he did it. Is there anything more? I wouldn't want to miss my next class, and morning break is nearly out..." Harry finally asked.

Dumbledore looked at the auror, who after flipping pages of the form couple of times more, just nodded his head.

"You may go Harry." said the Headmaster.

After Harry and McGonagal left the office, Snape and Malfoy were trying to follow but auror stopped young snake.

"Young man, do you know that there is a fine for unjustified call of a auror?"...

* * *

Next Saturday, our hero was alowed, together with Neville and Hermione, to acompany Hagrid and see Norbert being taken to a Romanian Dragon Reserve, where he would stay if more suitable one won't be availible. Norway was no longer a place for a reserve, because fjords were too big of a tourist atraction, both in muggle and magical world, to acomodate such an establishment.

Going back to Gryfindor tower together, Neville had to ask.

"How did you know it would work?"

"Because there is no better way of dealing with illegal stuff, than making authorities take it of your hands themself."

* * *

AN. Even thou I'm home from some time, I was too tired to really write. Firstly I did something like 300km on foot, and when I came back I had to travel some more... First part of this chapter was written like one sentence a day. On the brighter side, while on the first part of the trip, I met a girl that looked and acted like older version of Magie. No kidding. Those were some crazy 10 days.

Back to the story. I once saw Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, but don't really remember anything from there any more. Can anyone check if what I wrote on Ridgebacks is somewhat consistent with it? Description itself came from Norbert looking like a cross between a bat and crocodile (or alligator have longer snout?), and fact that they come from Norway.

As for Norbert, it's another plot twist to make Harry go to the forbidden forest. But how believable is that Dumbledore who supposedly know nearly everything that is going on in school omits four people sweeping through it (not counting Harry and Hermione) in the middle of the night. Powerful wards in sixth book can be explained by that they were activated after Voldemort came back, but shouldn't there be some passive ones at all times?

You fill in Draco's punishment yourself, I didn't have time for it. My first idea would be that Snape took his time to teach him some Slytherin ways, that's why he didn't go to normal class having private tutoring. But with all this stress put on Snape, those lessons wouldn't be nicest ones. But hey, be creative for yourself.


	13. Just don't overextend yourself

I owned Harry Potter once. Yeah, I know that it's a stupid nick when you're playing a...Oh, THAT Harry Potter. No, sorry, it ain't me.

* * *

With the dragon situation solved, there ought to be some free time for our hero. But no such luck. Because of the exams, teachers threw more and more work at them. Instead of having more time, Harry was running out of it so fast he sometimes thought he was skipping days entirely.

This ended only when Harry's final exam was over, and he had to laugh at the memory of pantomime that he had to do on practical exams. To everyone around, it looked like a proper piece of magic. But only when you would look from a backstage seat, you would see Puppet-Harry waving a piece of wood, while Director-Magie sat at the console operating all the special effects. As funny of a picture it was, it still was essentially true. Of all the magic words that he spoke during those exams, only one working was "Please" when he asked Magie to help him.

But even after all that work, he had too long list of things to do and research to be wasting any amount of time. So, straight from History of Magic exam, he went to library for some books and then to a secluded place for some undisturbed reading. The only problem with that, was that due to the earlier time-skipping-whirlwind of studying, he went into the books so deep, that he didn't notice how late it was getting.

"Oh, I'm so late." Harry kept repeating while hurrying through halls of the castle. He was so worked up to get back to common room that he didn't even notice when he passed Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore speaking animatedly in the entrance hall. Nor did he notice that Headmaster saw him wandering after curfew, at which his eyes widened before he speed off, leaving confused transfiguration teacher behind.

The next day there was a lot of commotion over a story about Professor Quirrell dying in a tragic accident while working in the third-floor corridor... Story itself wasn't that interesting. What brought out the commotion was that everyone knew it was just a cover story, and started to dig for what really happened. But, they didn't try so hard or so long as to find anything out. First because no one really liked Quirrell, and the second because exam results soon took first place in everyone's mind.

End of year feast was no surprise either. Gryffindor won, due to their spectacular quidditch team, getting just ahead of Ravenclaw's, who had best lesson-work related results. Slytherin's were last, because their misbehaviour lost them too many points.

After the feast, it seemed that there was just enough time for packing and saying goodbye's before they were once again aboard Hogwart's express, heading home.

* * *

AN. I know what you're thinking. "WHAT? No Philosopher Stone? No Voldemort, running around and everything? Didn't you say that Harry would be more aware or something?..." Calm down, calm down. Breathe...

I think I did good job at showing that Harry is more aware, if not about everything going around, then that there is always something you can do with the situations you are concerned about. The thing is, in the book Harry was told all his live, probably every day, to not touch, not do, not ask... and shortly after being introduced to magical community, that goes out of the window and he begin to run rampart after everything even slightly suspicious. Okay, even if you tell me it's because of the new setting he thought that there would be no one to "control" him, it all started with a brown package from a vault, which he remembered clearly among all those magical things he saw touring a hidden district...

Ranting done, sorry for this chapter being so short but I had to wrap this year up and start to explain things like why Harry don't have nightmares or scar-pains. I bet you thought I forgot about that. Well I didn't, and I need to move things in that direction, so I should add another chapter very shortly.


	14. Similar, yet so different

(After looking through my fridge) Sorry, I don't own any amount of Harry Potter, would you care for some yoghurt instead?

* * *

Confused and Surprised. Those two words were a good start to describe how Harry felt after he arrived back home. When he departed from the train, he found uncle Vernon waiting for him, but that wasn't that strange. The weird part started after a long, filled with silence ride.

"Come to the living room when you're done with your things." said Vernon when they crossed the doorstep.

Harry sensing another rules to be added to the mile long list, didn't complain much hefting his trunk to his room. When he came down, he noticed his aunt and uncle already seated in the armchairs.

"Sit." came short order which he quickly complied with.

"Boy, we..." but his uncle stopped himself, which was confusing, he never did it while delivering his speech.

"I meant, Harry." this was surprising part, because they used his name even less. As Harry was about to see, it didn't stop at that.

"Me and your aunt, we had a lot of time to talk, and what you said...What I mean is..." his uncle struggled, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. "We treated you differently because you are different. But we may have overdid it, punishing you too much for normal things. But as for now, as long as you don't do any of that... funny business, we will try and see you as a normal kid."

"Well, I wouldn't worry about that." said Harry finally finding his voice, after a long time just staring at his uncle.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that if i would do any... funny business, They would punish me them self." at which he handed his uncle the note warning not to use magic during holidays.

"What kind of punishment do they mean?" asked Vernon after finishing the note and handing it to his wife.

"Well I don't know, and I don't really want to find out. But Ministry is..."

"Wait, you tell me Ministry knows about... all of that?"

"I mean, the OTHER Ministry..." said Harry, throwing them a meaningful look.

After that, happened something that made Harry fear about integrity of the universe and the space-time continuum. After that, Vernon Dursley begun to ask about magical world, making Harry tell probably everything he knew about how it worked.

Later, lying on his bed, Harry had to wonder what brought this. It couldn't just be couple of words that he told them nearly a year earlier. But time. Time could do it. People all around the world have their conviction's. And no matter what they are, there is always something constant, a certain belief that helps them sort out new ideas between right and wrong. For Dursley's that belief was that "There is no place for uncommon things.", making them act against everything not normal. But if you strike this cord, not even persuading, but hinting "Hey, you aren't that normal yourself." it will have an effect. Of course, at first, they will disregard it as a bogus idea. But if the message is strong enough, it will keep nagging somewhere at the back of their heads, making them consider everything they do, and over time, make them change their beliefs, or their course of action.

Of course the final touch was the revelation that magical world wasn't bunch of school kids, or teenagers right after it, doing whatever they wanted with their magic sticks, but rather well organized community with set of rules of their own and even a police force to keep it all in order. Because, even if slightly disturbed by alien things, Dursley's weren't racist, and could understand concept of different culture. So this new way of perceiving wizards was a new, more comfortable, pair of shoes they could fit in.

From that point on, living in that home wasn't like staying in a prison, but like in a hotel, and doing chores was Harry's rent. And even if their relations stayed somewhat cool, they definitely turned more civil. This new arrangements of course weren't to Dudley's liking, but that just made his parents notice how much he misbehaved, when they started to pay attention if Harry really did all the things they were going to punish him for.

But new status quo was to be threatened by a visit of a small inhabitant of magical world.

At the day of Harry's birthday Petunia explained to him that they had a long planed dinner with Masons from Vernon's work, that couldn't be cancelled because of birthday of a nephew no one even heard about before. Harry was stunned that they even remembered when it was, forget the celebration, but never even mentioning it before, but of course he understood that changes come gradually. So he was to spend his birthday in his room, opting against going out and not knowing when the dinner ended, as only then he would be able to come back inside.

But when he came to his room after helping his aunt with preparing the meal, he noticed a strange looking creature sitting on his bed. Hearing door closing, he looked with the corner of his eye and saw Magie standing by it. She, sensing his need, after looking at the creature shook her head, thus answering Harry's unasked question if she had brought it.

When he turned his head to the bed, the creature slipped of it and bowed very low, a gesture which Harry immediately returned.

"Harry Potter sir shouldn't be doing that." creature protested after noticing what he did.

Hearing it's voice, Harry hurriedly asked Magie if she could do anything so no one downstairs would hear it too, at which she brought forth a pack of tissues which flew out and plucked themselves between the door and frame, thus silencing the room. Harry just raised his eyebrow, having more important things to do at the moment.

"I thought that it was proper greeting from... well, wherever you come from, and I didn't want to be impolite by not returning it. By the way, who are you?"

At the first part creature looked like it was about to wail, but stopped when was reminded that it haven't introduced itself yet.

"Dobby, sir. Dobby the house-elf."

"And what brought you here, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts." quickly replied Dobby.

"And is there any reason for that?" asked Harry who was slightly taken aback, not expecting that kind of an answer.

"There is a plot to make most terrible things happen there, Harry Potter sir. Dobby has known it for month's sir. Dobby must warn, but... but..."

"But you can't tell it up front." finished Harry, at which Dobby nodded his head furiously.

Harry stood there a long time, contemplating both message and messenger. Until...

"Why is Harry Potter sir still standing?" brought him from his thoughts.

"Because if it's a longer conversation then everyone should be in the same position, no matter if it's sitting or standing. Oh, I'm sorry, would you like to sit?"

Dobby immediately burst into tears, explaining between hiccups that he never been asked to sit down by a wizard.

"Why is that?" asked Harry after sitting Dobby down, and waiting for him to calm down a bit.

"House-elves are servants and should remain unseen as long as they can, and when addressed to, should be at full attention to fulfil the command." Dobby explained, speaking like he was quoting a rule-book.

"But serving guests shouldn't you be wearing something else?" said Harry pointing old pillowcase.

"Oh no Harry Potter sir. House-elf wear only one thing like this, not clothing, given when he is brought to the family he is about to serve. Only time that he could be given clothing is when he is released from service."

"So, back to the business. Did someone ask you to come and warn me about what is going to happen at Hogwart?"

"No, Harry Potter sir. Dobby heard about Harry Potter and needs to protect him. Harry Potter sir is too important to be at any kind of danger."

"Protect me? Did you do something else, beside warning me, that I should thank you for?" asked Harry half jokingly, wanting to lighten the atmosphere.

But in response, Dobby started fidgeting, and after a while reached into his pillowcase and extracted a thick wad of envelopes.

"Dobby thought that if Harry Potter won't have any message from magical world, he might not want to come back."

Harry reached for the envelopes, but Dobby just jumped of the bed and out of his reach. He tried again, standing from his chair, but that just made Dobby skip further away. Getting slightly annoyed by this...

'Magie, could you?'

Magie, who was still standing by the door, just walked past Dobby, picking letters from his hand while she did, and walking up to Harry, handed them to him right before vanishing out of view. Harry just smiled at the place she was standing a moment ago and proceeded to look through the stack, consisting mostly of letters from Hermione, but there were some from Neville, and even one from Hagrid and, what looked like a message from Twins if the look of it could say anything. While doing this, he forgot about Dobby, who was looking between his hand and Harry so fast that his ears were flapping around.

"Dobby heard about great Harry Potter sir, but no one before said anything about old ways..."

That got him Harry's full attention again, but before Harry could ask...

"Dobby was wrong. It would be best for Harry Potter sir if he was in Diagon Alley week after Hogwarts letters were delivered." and after that, he vanished with a loud crack.

Harry had no idea what that meant. What it all meant.

* * *

Later in the evening, after he was done reading the letters, which beside Hermione's, turned out to be birthday wishes, Magie returned with 'Did I miss anything?'. After he told her the rest of the meeting with Dobby, Harry had a question of his own.

'What was that thing with tissues?'

'What do you mean? You wanted the room silenced...'

'Yes I know, but why like that?' asked confused boy.

'I always do it like that, like when you tried that first spell to lift the feather.' responded slightly annoyed Magie.

'Yeah I remember. But, well, I didn't really notice at any other time. You always disappeared in the middle of it.' replied slightly ashamed Harry.

'I got tired really quickly before. But not today. Today it was easier to do.' she said with a shrug.

'So you tell me that it always look like that?' Harry asked in a disbelieving tone with a slight disappointment mixed with it.

'Hey, even if I'm not that normal, I know only common ways of doing things.' snapped Magie, irritated by his response to her efforts.

'Sorry, sorry. I just though you did something more... magical.' at which she huffed loudly crossing her arms. 'Well, fact that you're so charming still stays the same.' and even if slightly ironic, this compliment somewhat loosened her bringing slight smile to her face.

'So, what are you going to do with what Dobby said?' she finally asked.

'What I can for now. Wait.'

* * *

AN. Answering your unasked questions regarding Dursley's. Even thou I read and liked some of abused-Harry stories, I don't perceive Dursley's as horrible people. Misguided is better term for me. Petunia is acting on memories of her sister, and Vernon knows only what his wife told him.

Another chapter will also be out soon, because I already know how it will look like. I just need to write it down.


	15. Inner workings

(Turning on the TV)... And now shocking news from the books corner. J. K. Rowling having the dilemma of giving her rights away, opted against it and still owns Harry Potter... Truly shocking news.

* * *

Following days were spent on homework and replying to Hermione's letters, which with time were more and more distressed. Thou there was that awkward late-birthday party at which Dursleys, even as they tried, could only wish him best at whatever he wanted to accomplish. Not knowing what he could need in magical world, they bough him set of clothes. And even if it they were modest, at least they fit him. Harry thought that it was more present to them, that they wouldn't want to be seen to often with someone dressed as sloppily as he usually was, but later blamed that initial idea on the new concept of Dursleys being nice to him.

Time progressed in that routine, until the time that Hogwarts letters finally came. Harry had lots of time to think if waiting a week would pay off, but in the end couldn't find anything wrong with the concept, as there was still time to do the shopping after that, and it certainly was better idea than not going back to Hogwart at all.

So, exactly week later, Harry took a ride with his aunt and uncle, who were also going on a shopping trip to London, so would be able to pick him up on the way back as well. After going through Leaky Cauldron, which was emptier than he remembered it, he went through hidden gate into Diagon Alley, and immediately directed his steps toward Gringotts, where he was to meet with Hermione and her parents.

Going up the steps of the bank, he noticed a goblin in a uniform bowing to him. Remembering now that this happened also at his previous visit, something that he omitted while he was overwhelmed with his first encounter with magical world, Harry stopped and bowed back, before resuming his march. Having his eyes on the door, Harry didn't see that aforementioned goblin was gazing at him, trying to remember face of this particular human.

After a quick look around the inside of the bank, Harry noticed Hermione and her parents in the crowd of red-headed people. A person who, Harry assumed, was Mr. Weasley, while twins were getting a dressing down from, what went without explanation, their mother.

"Hello." he said coming closer to the group, but made it so unfortunately that his greeting scared a small girl standing slightly aside of Mrs. Weasley. Harry couldn't say what surprised her more, his sudden approach, or realisation who it was.

After everyone noticed his arrival, and a round of greetings, everyone moved to finish their business at the bank. When Harry and Weasleys came back from the vaults, he had to say that indeed money wasn't measure of happiness, if that family could be proof to that.

After an hour of checking what kind of shops Diagon Alley had to offer, Harry and Hermione meet with others at Flourish and Blotts, just to notice that Gilderoy Lockhart was about to begin signing of his latest book. Harry had to seriously consider Hermione's explanation about meeting person who wrote so many books, because that squeal sounded just a little bit too girly to be based on a academic interest.

Due to a big crowd, lot of pushing around caused by close proximity of photographer, and a comment made by Ron, Harry somehow found himself right before the camera seconds away from first-page photo. Not at all liking the idea, he had to do something about it... or find certain someone who would help him.

'Magie?' he called while looking around the book-store. Magie on her part made a big show of looking busy with looking through available tomes.

'Magie do you have a minute?' he played along, knowing too well that he couldn't achieve anything if he rushed her act.

'Hmm? Yeah, sure.' she replied, not at all disturbing herself.

'Could you do something about the camera please?' Harry pleaded, looking at the cameramen who was just finishing applying magnesium, or whatever magical folks used instead of it, for the flash.

'Oh, sure.' at which she gave him a "surreptitious" wink, and sneaked "secretly" among people. Finding herself right beside the camera, and after checking if no body have seen her so far, she nonchalantly kicked one of the legs of the tripod, in the effect giving the cameraman a beautiful shot of the ceiling. Harry had to sigh, roll his eyes, and chuckle at the corresponding parts. Everyone was too busy admiring Gilderoy, and Lockhart himself was too concerned with posing to notice how Harry behaved.

Wanting to somehow save this mishap, Gilderoy made a big announcement of his becoming new DADA teacher at Hogwarts and a show of presenting Harry with his every book, wanting to stall until camera was ready for another picture, but Harry got away before the camera-man could take care of small problems appearing everywhere, which Magie was just too happy to provide.

Remembering empty vault, he walked straight to Ginny and said "You can have these. I'll buy my own." while tipping the stack of books to her cauldron. She blushed beat red, but then...

"Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a bookshop without making a commotion." said Draco Malfoy appearing right in front of them, but before Harry could reply...

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said Ginny.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" drawled Malfoy.

But Harry acted quicker this time and draping his arm around Ginny's shoulders he simply replied "Awfully cute one at that, wouldn't you say?"

That had two effects. Malfoy begun to move his mouth without making any sound, and Ginny's blush deepened so much that Harry thought she might loose conciousness due to all the blood rushing to her head. Just as he removed his hand, and pointed to shocked Ginny state that Draco was in, which brought a smile to her face, Ron appeared to check what it was all about and immediately started arguing with Malfoy.

Maybe it was for the better that Harry no longer participated in the conversation, because he caught sight of Magie just standing there and staring in a way he saw her doing it only once before. Following her gaze, he saw someone who could only be Malfoy's father, observing still growing crowd of redheads while checking something in his pockets. Finally he came closer and, just like Draco did with Ron, immediately started to taunt Mr. Weasley. Observing closely the confrontation, and gazing from time to time at Magie to check what exactly was she following, he noticed when Mr. Malfoy slipped something with the book that he took out of Ginny's cauldron.

After everyone was finally out of the book-store and making sure that he guessed correctly what caught Magie's attention, he came right next to Ginny.

"Hi. Sorry, but when I was giving you those books, I forgot my... notebook, in there." he said, finally finding a old looking notebook, something he thought wasn't or even shouldn't be there, as wizards still used parchment. Noticing Ginny blushing again, Harry continued with. "Actually, I have to thank you for your part in pranking Malfoy." at which she relaxed, giggling merrily at the memory of Draco's expression.

* * *

After coming back home and putting his new books in place, he sat at his desk considering what to do with what turned out as a diary, although so faded out that it could pass as a normal leather-bound work book. Only strange thing about it that he could notice was that beside it worn out state, it was completely empty inside.

'What did you see this time? Again something familiar?' Harry thought to himself, so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even expect to hear...

'Yes, but this time I know from where I know it.'

He lifted his head, to see Magie sitting on his bed, staring at the diary just like he was a moment before.

'Can you tell me about it?'

'I...' she hesitated, but after tearing her gaze from the diary and looking at Harry for a long while 'I think I could show you.'

'How?' he asked at once.

Magie just patted the bed, and after he sat on it, she laid him down and begun to scratch his head, just like she used to. But despite the fact that he felt like falling asleep, and even when he knew the moment that he closed his eyes, Magie didn't fade to black like everything around. She stayed there, just scratching his head. Suddenly, she stopped and stood up, extending her arm to help him do the same.

"And what was that for?" he asked while sitting up.

"Didn't you notice?" she asked while stepping further away.

At first he didn't know what she was talking about. He was sitting on bed in a room and they were still talking. But then it hit him. It wasn't his bed and it definitely wasn't his room. Even if the room itself was approximately the same size as his, it was very much different. His room was pretty much bare, and when he went to Hogwarts, not counting a few things, it could pass as an empty guest's room. Magie's room on the other hand looked like it was... lived in. You walked into it and thought that you just missed someone who left to get groceries. There were books, personal nicknack's and trinkets, but Harry's attention caught a cork board. Pined to it were things like photographs, but also tickets to cinema or concerts, postcards, and even inside-joke-kind-of-things that only certain people could understand meaning of, like a certain envelope addressed to Harry in a green ink. The whole board just shouted "I was there, I did that... I lived.". Just looking at it brought smile to Harry's face.

"It's so like her. Living to the fullest." thought Harry to himself.

"I'm happy that you like it." responded Magie.

"Why did I say it out loud?" he asked while turning to her.

"What?" she asked, just now finishing watering her plants.

"I thought something, but I spoke it out loud." he said, confused, at which she couldn't stop and laughed.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked while glaring at her.

"Don't you remember where you are? Here your thoughts have an actual form and personalities of their own, so, whatever you think that you think to yourself, here is just speaking." she answered, clearly amused that he really needed to ask.

Harry just stared at her processing what she just told him.

"Yup, welcome to the land where everyone speaks what they think." Magie told him with a big smile.

He just shook his head, not having any response to that.

"Shouldn't we be moving?" Harry proposed.

Magie just nodded, and exiting her room, went through rest of the house and outside, Harry walking right after her.

House itself wasn't too big either, but it shouldn't be a surprise as she said she lived alone. It was placed on a hill overlooking a city in which there was probably everything. Harry could see bell tower of a church, school, hospital, some tall buildings, not really sky scrapers, blocks of flats, houses in the suburbs, and even some lodges in the forest. City itself was on a flatland with some lakes, between a sea and some mountains. Even if there was a lot of things to look at, they still fit perfectly in your field of view, and despite what you thought about distances, it felt like it was close enough for a walk.

When Harry was about to move his feat to go and tour the city, Magie stopped him by grabbing his hand, and pointing the other direction of the small road they were standing on, which was leading into the forest. Looking last time at the city, he followed her.

"I told you when I started putting things in here, that others came, right?" Harry just nodded. "They needed a place to stay, so they built a city for them self. They fit whatever they liked or needed in there, so you can find in theory everything there is, shops, malls, cinemas... Well, everything as long as you know about it." she said with a slight smile."But here..." she told him, abruptly stopping and pointing at a gap in the hedge that grew along the road. "No one knows, how it got here."

"But if nobody's there..." tried to speculate Harry.

"Oh, I didn't say that no one is there." she answered while vanishing into the gap.

Harry followed her, and after another short walk on a dirt track, they came to a small clearing in the thick forest, where stood a ruined house with a snake nailed to the door.

Magie entered it ahead of Harry, who spent some time to look at the ruin, but while he finally joined her, he notice that she was leaning over a crib. Joining her, he saw something that he didn't expect, in a form of a small child with skin rough and raw, it looked like it had been flayed.

"I think it did it, build this house I mean. We only brought it a crib and some clothing, and check on it from time to time. It used to cry really loudly..." she said while playing with the child, giving it fingers, which it tried to grab. "Those things calm it down, so we hung them here." she said while pointing with her head over the crib. "Earlier they were just lying around the room."

When Harry looked up, he noticed one of those toys you put over child's bed. But this one was most unusual one. Instead of things like animals or air-planes, there were hung things that seemed random. There was a ring, a locket, a cup, a diadem, a miniature snake and a... diary. Child had a line in its hand, probably to make it turn whenever it wanted to. Looking higher, Harry followed the cord that everything was tied with, which lead to a hook, but then down again and into a black canvas that hung in a frame on one of the walls of the hut. Coming closer to it, Harry noticed that it wasn't black canvas, but what looked like magical painting of swirling black smoke. He looked at the toy more closely, and saw that the cord that he thought everything was tied with, didn't make any knots, instead going to objects them self, as well as into the child.

Focusing more on the diary, he noticed that it was in fact the same one that he now had in his room, but looked nothing like it. This one looked brand new. Magie handed him a pen, still having her gift to sense what he wanted to do, and with it he opened the diary on the first page, where in an ink that looked like it just went dry was written "T M. Riddle".

"I think you can touch it. I already did, like several others." said Magie from his side.

Stabbing the diary with his finger without any effect, Harry slowly grasped it, and after he was sure enough that it wasn't dangerous, he opened it at random page and begun to read first line, which turned out to be.

_ I found it! I finally found IT! Legendary Chamber of Secrets..._

* * *

AN. I hate you world. I sometimes really do. When I have this great idea about Magie's world, you release film like "Inception". But I got to love you for giving me quick "form" for my unfinished ideas that can't stop bugging me until I get them right.

On a lighter side, did anyone ever think about bringing horcrux into Privet Drive and making Voldemort reborn as Dudley? I'm not saying that I will, but just imagine... I can't even write a one shot on this, I can't stop laughing long enough to write.

Not an actual cliff-hanger-like ending, just wanted to show you that all those things that diary could show to someone who was writing in it, are there in a written form, just like I think the diary looked like before it was made into a horcrux. So, don't think that there will be some recipes for instant power. It's just a diary of a teenager, not a workbook of Dark Lord, where I would keep all my research.

About that thing with Ginny in the bookstore, it was just to annoy Malfoy. Its best way to get back at someone who wants to embaras you, to be bold about it... even if it doesn't exist...

And this kind of text is a quote from the book.


	16. Not so special after all

J. K. Rowling called dibs on original series of Harry Potter first, so I'm stuck with this.

* * *

The end of the summer vacation was probably the most bizarre thing Harry had ever lived through so far.

After Magie brought him to her "miniature world", he spent as much time as he could to learn how to go there without her help. After he finally could do it right on his own, Harry divided his time between touring the city, relaxing at Magie's and spending time in the run-down hut, trying to understand what it was. Because, if it really was somewhere inside his head, he simply needed to know.

The diary itself wasn't much of a deal, being in essence a journal of a teenage boy who was cursing at the world and pondering his personal dilemmas. Well, yes, it was written in a weird way, like the writer had a paranoia about keeping his secrets to himself, even thou he evidently had to write some of them down. But from being where that person evidently had been, Harry could manage to decipher some parts, like clues how to find certain areas in the castle. The diary ended just before something that the writer called "fulfilling his greatest dream". And through it all, Harry didn't know what linked that diary, with this room in his thoughts. Or why in the real world, the diary looked like it was completely blank.

But if you think that touring an non-existent city, and exploring unknown corners of your mind was bizarre part of the vacation, then guess again. The weird part was the part that Harry actually had to live through, and that was the treatment that Dursley's displayed, because it got even stranger that treating Harry good.

Simply told, they started to discipline Dudley.

After some time that they kept their promise to treat Harry as a normal boy, they noticed that he in fact was a quiet, well behaved young man. Clearly not needing to check his every move, they relaxed, only to notice that their own son did how he pleased, no matter what he was told. Of course, as in both Vernon's and Petunia's home's, being spoiled was never an option, such a behaviour could not take place in their own family, and needed to be thwarted as soon as possible.

So, it was decided that Dudley will too share some responsibilities in the house. It was the most ridiculous sight to Harry, Dudley with a mop being told to clean the kitchen. It was borderline with watching a science fiction movie when people had first contact with alien technology, the way he kept looking between the bucket and all the colourful packages of cleaning products, trying to understand how it worked. To top it off, Harry was specifically told NOT to help him, and do only his own chores, as his parents thought, still having their perfect Diddykins in mind, that he was fully capable of handling it himself.

Day's passed by in this bizarre way, until time came that Harry had to go to school. And strangeness followed even then, as when Harry and his uncle arrived at the King's Cross, Vernon asked "Would you mind if I...You know..." Harry looked at him, and quickly caught on, seeing his uncle looking around the station.

"You would like to see the platform?" Harry guessed, at which he received an embarrassed nod.

"Well, you see... Your aunt said she was there once, while your mother was going, but nothing more, so I thought that I could see it for myself." he quickly explained.

Harry just shrugged, and went to the hidden entrance, explaining along the way how to get through it. After his uncle's comment about crazy ideas, Harry just responded that hidden platform spares the people on already busy station, a distraction of a group of strangely looking people with lots pets, and is quite convenient as it doesn't require all those questions of "What is going on?" and "Where are they heading?". That point of view his uncle could quickly accept.

Platform itself was for Vernon quite a let down.

"That's it?" he asked while looking around a normal looking platform, with only change being a steam engine train in a place of a modern one. "A train? No crazy things?"

"Well, we are at a train station aren't we? And as for more "unusual" forms of transportation, I think the train is something of a tradition." at the last one he could see his uncle looking at the steam locomotive again, but this time with near-approving kind of look.

While Vernon was still looking around, Harry was busy scanning the crowd, and as usual Weasley's were late, so only one more distinctive hair colour caught his eyes. Or rather who was standing with the platinum haired family. Because near the Malfoy's, Dobby stood at full attention, probably waiting for the family to conclude their conversation and when he would be given his next orders.

"Uncle, you know that not only people like me tend to be horrible right?" Harry said, interrupting his uncle's inspection of the platform. When Vernon understood what was spoken to him, his ears reddened and he was about to reply, but Harry was quicker. "I didn't mean anything, I just wanted for you to not jump to wrong conclusions when we meat some awful people here." Harry clarified, remembering that Malfoy's always tended to put themselves higher than anyone else.

But luckily, it wasn't Malfoy who spotted Harry, but rather Hermione whoo just entered the platform with her parents. It was another great thing for Vernon to meat someone in similar situation and listen how they were spooked out at first, before they got used to the situation.

Harry didn't have time to listen to the whole conversation, as He and Hermione had to find a compartment, but it wasn't too hard as the last one was still empty, the same that found Neville's toad exactly year before. Surprisingly, Neville himself joined them as they were loading the trunks, and after the three were on board, there was enough time to go back and say goodbye before a group of red haired people stormed through the platform, the usual signal that it was time to go.

Ride itself was filled with talk about what would this years Defence be like, with Hermione gushing how amazing it will be to learn from a person who accomplished so much, Neville saying that his grandmother thought Lockhart was a phony, and Harry, not wanting to disagree with Hermione at full gear, and crash whatever Neville had to say, speculated that Lockhart took the job to simply sell out the stock of his books.

The only disturbance to this was when Malfoy showed up, looking for some amusement. So when the door slid open, he clearly intoned.

"What have we here. A loser's club." and as if on cue, Crabbe and Goyle begun to snicker.

At that Harry sat up right, and turning to his own companions a look of complete wonder said

"Loser's Club! Hermione, that is so much better than "Group of People No One Really Cares About". Why didn't we think about it before!"

The other two, having already spent some time around Harry, quickly caught on the joke, and trying to keep straight face, and somehow mimic his look of amazement when they followed him to stare at Malfoy like he was eight wonder of the world. Draco on his part was confused what was happening.

"You know, you would be perfect for us. You should join us! All three of you!" Harry said so happily that Hermione and Neville begun to crack up. "With such a great idea's you would soon be chairman or something. You could help us with a campaign to bring other people in, we could have meetings, or better, tea parties! Just imagine how..." but Draco didn't hear any more as he was running as fast as he could to get away from that maniacally-sweet look on Potter's face. In his escape, he missed when the trio begun to laugh uncontrollably, so much that they ended in a heap on the floor.

That bit of amusement kept their mood hight all throughout the rest of the ride, the sorting feast, up until they went to sleep in their own four poster beds.

* * *

AN. Sorry for short chapter, but don't worry, another is on its way.


	17. Things no one else does

Even if I would try to lie, no one would believe me that I'm owner of Harry Potter, so why bother.

* * *

Following day thou, amusement wasn't the most common reaction. And not at all when you were a member of the faculty, except for one.

It is said that every blessing can be curse and vice versa. You just needed to find a proper example, and luckily we have just the thing. Gilderoy Lockhart had such a gift, probably perfected through extensive use, that no matter what situation or topic of conversation, he himself was most important person. And like said earlier, it was a blessing and a curse. Blessing for him, curse for entire world.

From the moment he arrived at Hogwart some days before the first of September, Lockhart was a busy person, giving tips to other teachers on best curriculum and schedules, that by the first day of class, every one of them was on edge. Of course, that mood was reflected on the student, who could clearly see that even Professor Sprout was far from her usual cheerful mood. No matter that it was first day, which usually was spent on fast repetition of important information from last year. Teachers were working hard on them from the first minute of class.

Herbology was a real workout, because it was their first time handling plants that had their own ideas about being re-potted. If changing greenhouse was usually this more tiring, Harry now knew why there wasn't physical education in their schedules.

It wasn't much better in Transfiguration, because almost immediately they found them self changing beetles into buttons. But here, he couldn't blame his inexperience with magical plants for his low results. In this class he had to rely on another person.

'Come on Magie, it's your thing. Don't tell me you can't do it.' complained Harry, looking at a flat beetle with holes that was still running around his desk.

'Sorry, I'm just not good at this. I'm better with charms.' replied embarrassed Magie, still remembering how she left whiskers on a snuffbox they had to transfigurate mouse into at the practical exam previous year.

'Yes, we all know you're charming.' Harry said with a smile. 'But what if someone helped you with it?' he proposed.

'What do you mean?' she asked, confused.

'I was thinking, maybe the reason why I can do things without wand is because I always think that you do it. Like I would ask anyone else to do something.'

'Any example?' Magie asked, still needing clarification.

'I told you that usually you disappeared in the middle of it, but when things kept flying around, it wasn't hard to just think that you were still juggling them, but being invisible, like wearing that cloak.'

'So, you think I should have someone else do it?' she asked in the end.

'Pretty much.' he answered with a shrug.

After a while Magie thought that it was worth a try.

'Have someone in mind?'

'You know, that guy from the theatre, what was his name?'

'Mr. Danton? Yeah he would be perfect for a magician.' Magie said, and after she closed her eyes and concentrated, another person just appeared in front of them.

This was an older gentleman, dressed in what you call a "white tie", even with a silk scarf and a cane. After a quick explanation of what they wished to accomplish, Mr. Danton, still shaking his head at their strange request, did a big show of getting one of buttons of his coat and vanishing it, after which, he covered now normal looking beetle with his white handkerchief. After one last over-dramatic gesture in which he removed the handkerchief, Harry found an exact replica of one of Mr. Danton's buttons lying on his desk. At the end of the lesson Magie could just grin at him, while Mr. Danton disappeared with an exaggerated bow, yet still having slight smile of his own while he did so.

After quick lunch, Hermione, Harry and Neville went outside to relax as much as they had time to. But then Harry was approached by Colin Creevey, clearly overenthusiastic from his first day of magic, quickly followed with Malfoy, who had to get back at Harry for what happened on the train, clearly forgetting who started that particular exchange.

Of course, Draco's shouting about signed photos brought Lockhart to the place of commotion so fast that Harry didn't have time to end the confrontation, and after Gilderoy took charge of the photos, he started to give his not-yet-as-famous-as-himself hero pointers how to handle those kind of situations. But Harry, with mind already working on a way to make Malfoy go away, saw an opportunity.

"Professor, you should be talking to my manager about such a thing." he interrupted before Lockhart could build up steam.

"A manager?" Defence teacher asked, clearly surprised.

"Yes, Professor. Didn't you see Draco Malfoy making everyone notice the whole thing? You know us Gryffindors, we feel comfortable while in action. I leave business part for the cunning Slytherin."

"Oh, Harry, Harry, Harry. You shouldn't be putting your carrier in others hands, it may..." Lockhart started in his patronizing tone, but again was interupted.

"No, Professor. I took care of that. We have a pretty tight contract and it goes so far, that if you would ask Draco about anything, he would play confused or absolutely deny everything. That's why you should give him subtle hints in random parts of conversation as he truly didn't know what you were talking about. And preferably on many different occasions so no one overhears everything important. You know those secretive Slytherins"

Lockhart begun to nod his head, taking the whole thing as more and more probable, and after Harry's last comment, he went to search out a true mastermind behind Harry's campaign. Because poster boy wasn't important outside of events where they could be seen together, it was better to influence the person in charge and make sure for those occasions to happen. As a results, Draco Malfoy wouldn't hear the end of Gilderoy Lockhart for months.

But now, everyone mentioned above was busy during a Defence class. Well if you consider being busy writing random answers in the "quiz" Gilderoy prepared for them, like Harry was doing. First he thought about giving a blank sheet, but then it would stand out among other random things people were writing down. As a test itself, Harry felt fully justified as unimportant, because he couldn't fail not knowing Professors personal life when answering a Defence test, just like a chemistry teacher couldn't downgrade you for bad orography. As long as it showed lack of knowledge, it wasn't part that was being graded that you lacked in. And idea of Gilderoy managing straight face while calling it an actual test after someone showed it to another teacher was just absurd.

In the end, Gilderoy didn't even read most of it, just skimming over in search of right answers. Of course, Hermione had all the answers right, but when her name was called out, her blush was too evident for Harry to miss.

But that thought was quickly replaced with bunch of pixies trashing the classroom. While everyone went into a panic fit, Harry sat in his seat and observed, until Gilderoy lost his wand, at which he thought that it was high point to do something. And he did couple of paper air planes.

'Magie, could you do the honours?' he asked, and didn't have to wait long to see her sitting next to him with a pilot hat on her head and a controller in her hands.

While Harry did his usual act of actually casting the spells, Magie switched the controller on and sent air planes into the air one after the other, doing the whole "You have clearance for lift-off" along the way. Quickly, all the pixies in the room were zooming after pieces of paper in the air, with a single thought of destroying them. It was just their bad luck that with their tunnel vision they didn't notice direction that every plane was heading, because while paper could just fold itself to pass through bars of the cage, pixies ended sprawled against them, while Magie just locked them inside.

Everyone just stood gaping at Harry still sitting at his desk, and even when the bell rung they couldn't move from their place. Harry just gathered his things and went on his way, but was soon joined by Hermione and Neville.

"What? How?..." Hermione kept stammering, not really sure what she wanted to ask. "Why did that work?" she managed in the end.

"Well, as far as I know animals are aggressive only when they fell threatened or when are hunting. Seeing as they went after everything that moved I would have to say that those pixies are on the predatory side of the scale..."

"Went after everything that moved? They were throwing our things out of the window!" Neville nearly shouted, still shaken by the experience.

"Yes, after you hid under the desk, so I guess they started grabbing things with your scent on it, or just anything near enough the last place they saw you." he said showing them his own bag with everything intact. "But as I was saying, since they would chase after whatever moved, I just gave them something to run after." he said like it was most normal thing in the world.

"But there wasn't anything like this in our Defence books." complained Hermione.

"Just like there wasn't how to make a paper air plane, but there are some few chosen who know that forgotten art." Harry replied in a voice of a master scolding his young apprentice, which made Hermione scowl. "What I'm trying to say is you can't rely only on books."

"How can you say that!" Hermione shouted stopping abruptly.

"Ok, then answer me this. If everything that have witting on it would be burnt or otherwise destroyed, but people kept going, what would they do?" Harry asked.

"They would rewrite the books." immediately answered Hermione.

"Right, but what with the parts that no one would remember? Because you can't expect that every book or piece of information is remembered word by word. What with the missing part?"

"It can be rediscovered." she said with dawning realisation.

"Right. Because as long as people have head on their shoulders, you can destroy knowledge as much as you want, and they'll just start from the start. But if people somehow lost their intelligence, no amount of information would do any good, because they wouldn't understand what they were reading, or just couldn't make simple connections between basic facts. So, even if someone wrote many books, you shouldn't follow him if he doesn't put any thought in his action. Even if he's good looking." Harry added teasingly.

Hermione just nodded, chastised and slightly embarrassed at her initial response.

* * *

AN. I forgot to write this before, but Snape is still teaching. Dumbledore needs him, and besides Lucius is on the board, so he got out of it. Besides, how can I annoy him if he isn't there for me to annoy him.

I just have to write this. People gush over what illusionists do now, but the most perfect magic trick I ever saw was a black and white movie of a older man as I described him above, smoking a cigar (I think) and juggling single white ball. He would just walk around the stage puffing smoke and throwing the ball into one cloud, just to grab it from another. I saw it only once, but if anyone know where I can see this movie or live act again, I beg you to tell me.

About Hermione. I had teacher once that if you left her with a complex problem that no one could solve and sufficient amount of time, she would come with an answer. But at the same time was impossible to live with, since she had to spend some time thinking about EVERYTHING before she gave you an answer. Hermione reminds me of her in a way, because she can be smartest witch of her age, and still be useless at times, like when they were heading for the stone and she started shouting that there weren't any wood to make fire. Hermione just needs some time and peace to think things through.


	18. Shiny isn't always best

I looked through my copies of Harry Potter series, and I couldn't find my name anywhere. Instead, owner was named as J. K. Rowling. If you don't believe me, check for yourself.

* * *

Following days brought only more of workload and frustration to the students of Hogwart, accompanied with rain that poured from stormy clouds which appeared out of nowhere and decided to stay.

First day of clear sky happened to be a Saturday, and Harry could enjoy this revelation from crack of down, because that was when Oliver Wood woke him up. While gathering his gear, Harry had to wonder if Wood didn't come from a family closely connected to the post-mail, because "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night" could stop Oliver Wood from scheduling a Quidditch practice.

Another funny thing was picture that Colin, who seemed to have a alarm or radar kind of thing when it came to Harry, developed, the one Lockhart dragged Harry into. On it, animated Gilderoy tried to do a striking pose, just to be interrupted by Harry who was sneaking around, scaring Lockhart by obviously shouting right behind his back, messing his hair at another time, even making Lockhart fall at one point, when he was doing his pompous walk around the picture and Harry gave him the leg.

Harry had to wonder if that kind of picture caught your magic, because that was exactly what Magie would do if she were playful, or just what you intend to do at that moment, Lockhart wanting to look good, and Harry considering a good prank at that moment.

It was good that he managed to get in good mood, because state that field was in after a week of rain, and a speech from Wood about how this years training would be so much effective, which everyone quickly understood as harder, swept any humour from everybody's mind.

But after so inspiring presentation given by their captain, they couldn't start the practical part, because of the Slytherin team warming up on the muddy field.

"What are you doing here?" Wood snapped at them, thus making people in the stands, who came to enjoy a nice day in only place on school grounds that was at least partly dry, to notice encounter in the field.

"We need to train our new seeker." replied Flint, Slytherin captain, showing them the note from Snape.

When Malfoy stepped in front of his team, he quickly started his show of taunting anybody in front of him. Harry just barely listened to him, thinking about brand new brooms that every member of Slytherin team was holding.

As the commotion in the field grew, so did crowd in the stands as people caught wind that something interesting was happening. Neville and Hermione also came, and they brought Harry something to eat after they heard that Gryffindor team was long gone before breakfast started.

Two new people on the field quickly caught Malfoy's attention,

"Oh, Gryffindor called for help and their best came." Draco said, making everyone else notice the two that stood near Harry. "And you," he added looking straight at Hermione "This field is already a mess, we don't need additional Mu..."

"What about a match?" Harry interrupted him, while munching on a toast, returning conversation to the original argument, and sparing Hermione whatever insult Malfoy intended to use at the same time.

"What?" both teams asked simultaneously.

"Well, our team booked the field, yours have that note allowing you to use it as well. We need to practice, your seeker need the experience. Why not play a game?"

Slytherin's were grinning at each other, always thinking that opportunity to embarrass Gryffindor couldn't be too good to pass. Gryffindor's on the other hand stared strangely at Harry. Even Wood had his doubts.

"Harry what are you doing?" he asked after dragging Harry away.

"They were bragging that our team is ridding old brooms. What Slytherin's had before?"

"Something similar, maybe a class better. Why?" Oliver asked, not understanding why it was relevant.

"You remember training when I rode my Nimbus for the first time? They're riding brand new brooms, so..." Harry left his sentence hanging, and by the glint in Wood's eye, he knew that Oliver caught on.

After a quick talk with everybody else, Gryffindors thought that a quick game would be good for them, and they would indeed enjoy it. When everyone got in position, Slytherins were barely able to constrain them self from rubbing hands in glee from the absence of any type of referee. They could foul all they wanted and there would be no penalty.

But cunning Slytherins didn't notice that Gryffindors wanted them to play all out from the start.

In sport practice was most important, because it allowed you to master your skills, to know for sure that when you performed, your moves would be perfect every single time. But sports where you ride a car, motorbike, or in this case, a broom, wasn't all about a person. Interaction between man and machine was important if one wanted to reach his limits, and knowing if it was built to make that particular corner at top speed, or even if it slightly banked in one direction, could be the difference between winning or loosing. Knowing your gear and being sure you can rely on it was first thing.

So, when game started, Slytherins looked like bunch of people who tried to drive a car for the first time. First they tried to knock Gryffindor team from the sky, shooting at them at top speed. Speed far greater than that of their old brooms. Of course, they overshot by a mile players who just ducked under them. Then, for the longest time they would shoot straight out just to come to a screeching halt. Whatever skills they had were useless as they tried to control their brooms to which they weren't adjusted.

During this time, Gryffindors just played their game, getting in to a rhythm well know from practice and many games. Players tuned with them self and their old battered brooms.

When Slytherins got hand of their brooms and returned to active play, they were so far behind that even catching the snitch wouldn't help them. As we are talking about snitch...

"You're completely crazy to challenge our team now, Scarhead." begun Malfoy when they both got to position on the field, far higher than other players. He wanted to taunt Potter as much as he could before humiliating him with catching the snitch. He just had to vent some frustration from Lockhart stalking him all week first.

"You Gryffindors are always so..." Draco continued to talk to Harry who was busy with... chasing butterflies?

"What the hell are you...?" asked confused Malfoy, just to see Harry noticing something down below, just to shoot straight for the earth. Draco followed his gaze, and noticed a glint of gold.

Bringing his superior broom to full speed, Slytherin boy quickly caught to the Gryffindor seeker, overtook him, and just now noticing how close earth was, had enough time to slow down, before crashing into the muddy field.

Clearing his eyes from the sticky substance, he could see Potter standing nearby, searching something on the ground. Finally he bent down ant picked a single galleon.

"It dropped out of my pocket, but you didn't have to help me. I could have picked it up on my own, thanks." Harry said clearing the coin and putting it in his pocket.

Funny thing was, Harry managed to pull the same trick once more, getting Malfoy even dirtier.

On the third time that he shot for the ground, Malfoy started to shout "It won't work any more..." just to see Potter stop among other players and show them golden ball held tightly in his hand.

In the aftermath, score was ridiculous to even mention. Slytherin team all banged up from continuous onslaught of bludgers from Weasley twins. But the worst case was Draco, covered in mud from head to toe.

"You might want to wash thoroughly, I bet you have some inside." was Harry's comment at the sight that was Draco Malfoy, and it made everyone stop and grow quiet. "What?" he asked, noticing strange looks most people were giving him. "I meant for his ears." he said pointing at Malfoy who tried to make a single sentence of the situation, clearly not hearing a word, and with one eye still covered in mud. Gryffindors burst out laughing, and Slytherins made a quick retreat, having enough humiliation for the day.

"Great one Harry! Nearly saying that Malfoy was a mudblood." said Weasley twins as they intercepted him on the way to the castle.

"What's a mudblood?" asked Harry, not knowing what meaning wizards saw in this word.

"You know, dirty blood. Someone who isn't from old family of wizards. It's worst thing you could call a muggle-born." they said with frowns on their usually joyful faces.

Harry just snorted. "That's it?"

Twins blinked in surprise.

"Just think about it. What it states is because someone is from different family, of different blood, different culture, if he acts differently, it makes him worse. That's it. It's basic belief that ours is best, different is always worse. But all people are different. Even if they're from the same community they differ, even so slightly. You first look at what one does, before calling it better, not call dibs on best, and then make everyone do exactly what you do. And if you tell me that not being called mudblood means I would have to look and act like Malfoy, I'm starting to pray right now for someone to call me that everyday."

It took Twins a while to look at it from a new perspective, but that last picture of a school full of Malfoy-look-alikes, everyone flanked with two goons and stating their superiority to... them self, since you couldn't guess who was who, made a truly comic sight... or maybe a good prank idea...

* * *

AN. Sorry for not-so-often updates, but I have another story idea, and since I don't want to write two stories at once, I'm just writing ideas down for both. I'll keep this in mind, and post the other only when some scenes will put them self together.

Another chapter should be out shortly.


	19. Improbable that keep on happening

This is fan-fiction site. I'm a fan and this is a fiction. Go read J. K. Rowling's books if you want the original story.

* * *

As fun, thou tiring, Harry's time at Hogwart was this far, he really had some things to do, and places to be, both of which didn't have anything to do with school-work. Considering that he did his homework as soon as he could to have more time for his self-study, and by now it was mostly done, at Sunday he went to a toilet who everyone else in the castle tried to avoid as hard as they could. But the ghost responsible for that was absent from its usual spot, probably to participate in spreading the result of unofficial match the day before which by now probably everyone knew about. Harry used it as his cover story for disappearing for a whole day, saying that he didn't want any part in the rumours, especially as he was the one they were about.

Finding the entrance mentioned in the diary was ridiculously easy when you knew where to look. Opening it with Slytherins gift, was trickier, but not impossible like guessing what kind of gift was it, object or whatnot. Luckily Harry was sparred investigating when he grabbed first book about the founders from the shelf of Hogwarts library. But it was still a bit tricky to speak in parseltongue, until Harry remembered his talk with the snake in the muggle zoo. The trick was to not to force it, or even think too much about it. You just spoke to the snake, magic did the rest.

When he went down the tunnel that was continuation of the pipe that brought him deep underground, he had to stop near the gigantic shedding and think something along the lines 'No! An enormous snake as a monster in Slytherins chamber that that book mentioned. How... unexpected...' he added with a chuckle. But it quickly died down, as he thought that there was a chance it might attack him. He just had to believe that Slytherins gift would take care of it as well.

But the chamber itself was deserted, as he noticed after getting through the last barrier. Nothing more and nothing less than eyes of stone serpents watching his every move as he walked around the chamber. At the end of it, there was additional pair of eyes gazing at him, this time belonging to the only human statue. But beside that imitation of life? Nothing. Just stones and damp, chilly air accompanied Harry. Until...

'Magie?' he asked noticing a single figure standing couple of feet away, just staring at blank piece of wall.

'Come here.' she simply said.

Getting closer to her, Harry still couldn't understand what she found so interesting in this particular place. To him all the stones looked the same, no matter in which direction of the wall he looked.

'What is it?' he asked again.

'I... don't know.' she answered, and looked at him, tearing her gaze away from the wall for the first time. Suddenly she grabbed his glasses from his nose, and started to clean them with a clean piece of cloth. After she thought they were clean enough she handed them back.

Harry didn't even bother asking what she did, just put his glasses back on, and indeed there was a difference. Before, you couldn't tell one rock from the other one in any place of the chamber. But now, couple of rocks in this particular place looked different, more transparent. It was like instead of rock, someone put slabs of rough glass in couple of places, with a faint glow right behind them.

Not a glow, Harry corrected his observation, but rather a source of light that changed its position on the other side of the wall, he thought as he observed how there was always a stone brighter than the others, flashing in some kind of a pattern.

Harry took off his glasses and looked at again normal wall. He reached and ran his hand over the wall, feeling only stone under his fingers. But when he put the glasses back on, the light didn't travel any more, instead shinning brighter in the spot he touched the transparent stone at the time that the light came to it while following its pattern. It wasn't long thou, before light dimmed to its earlier glow and resumed its travel.

Harry looked at Magie, who just shrugged, meaning that she too didn't know what else could be done. So, he touched the light, and without waiting, begun pressing next stones, following the pattern. When the last stone was touched and increased in its glow, just like it happened in Diagon Alley when you tapped correct bricks, stones tarted to move and stopped only when there was a doorway leading to a room.

'Chamber of Secrets. No wonder there is more than one secret in here...' Harry thought as he stepped into new room.

But even if there was more things than in the larger chamber, there still wasn't much to look at. In the middle of the room stood a table with a chair on either side, and nothing more. But it was what was on the table that caught Harry's attention, because there was a piece of parchment lying on the table held by what Harry assumed was another of those transparent rocks, not being sure because whatever Magie did to his glasses stopped working right after he stepped through the new-found opening.

Picking the parchment from underneath the rock, he saw a flowing handwriting, looking in places like a snake trails instead of something done by a quill. Just like the room, note on the parchment wasn't much.

_Even thou it pains me to do so, I must leave the castle, part with my friends, and live a life of solitude. If it just wasn't for the history trying to repeat itself. I wish from all my heart that it won't be so, but if it will, I hope that this note will still be here, waiting..._ "Waiting for someone like you."

Did you ever consider reading? Hearing that voice in your head repeating words exactly as they were on the paper. It is your voice, but is it? Do you remember when you last read a part said by a character of opposite sex, and that voice changing itself to belong to that character?. It is still your voice, or is it? When its changed to be someone's not even slightly resembling you.

Harry didn't have time to pursue everything that simple observation could mean. He was trying to understand how he could have heard that last line, in that voice which should be his but wasn't, when the words weren't written on the parchment he was holding in his hand.

After staring at the parchment for the longest while, he lifted his head, remembering that there was a world beside that note, and just now noticed another person sitting in the other chair across the table. And that someone wasn't Magie.

It was a man dressed in green robes with accents of silver, with the same kind of monkeyish face that Harry saw on the statue in the main chamber, but far younger. His beard wasn't so long and his hair had healthy brown colour, thou you could find couple strands of grey here and there.

"Hello. I'm happy you finally joined me." said the stranger with slight smile.

"Erm... Hi." Harry responded awkwardly, gazing Magie's direction who nodded. "You, aren't... alive. Right?"

"Very good. I'm something more than a bunch of memories, but not someone who was Salazar Slytherin. I'm here to talk to you a bit, before making a choice." the phantom said.

"Talk about what?" Harry asked not-so-intelligently, still slightly disturbed that he didn't know what was happening.

"We should start from what you know about history of magic."

"Well... not much. I'm only a second year, and we learn only about goblin rebellions on History of Magic. Being muggle raised don't help much." Harry mumbled under his breath, but the phantom still caught it. "Oh, there was a sign on Ollivander's wand shop saying that they sold wands since 328 B. C. Or was it 382? That counts doesn't it?" Harry added seeing how the phantom was acting.

At the first part, he was shaking his head, getting confused look when Harry mentioned goblin rebellions. But when he said the last part, happened something Harry didn't expect. The phantom burst out laughing. Harry now could see where the "something more than bunch of memories" part was.

"Wands! From 382 B. C.! Oh, that's rich." the older man said, still getting a chuckle from his earlier howling-with-laughter fit. "Wait." he stopped when he noticed the strange look Harry was giving him. "You're not joking about the sign?" No reply was all the reply he needed. The phantom heaved a deep sigh, with a pained look on his face.

"Sorry, but are you sure you are... were, Salazar Slytherin? No offence but you don't act Slytherin-like." said Harry who couldn't keep that from bugging him.

That brought a smile to the older man's face again. "And how would a proper Slytherin act?"

Harry told him about a couple of observations about that house, bringing encounters with Malfoy as at least some examples. The older man just sat and listened, with a sad smile on his face.

"So it did turn the way I thought it would." commented the phantom when Harry didn't have anything more to add. "Well since you don't know much, I at least don't have to argue many things you would strongly believe in. But where to start." he said with a frown. "If you don't know History of Magic, do you know muggle myths, legends and such?" Harry just nodded. "You must have heard about Merlin." Another nod. "Good, it will simplify things." phantom said to himself.

"So, as you said you know it, tell me how Merlin did magic?"

"Well, he carried staff." answered Harry.

"And before?" was phantoms next question, which confused Harry.

"What do you mean before?"

"At what age do you see Merlin, if you had to describe him?" phantom asked.

"Well, a really old person, with long white beard and everything." Harry answered, feeling stupid, like he was missing something obvious.

"So you have a old person, carrying a staff. He was an advisor to the king, Arthur's mentor. Wouldn't king be able to afford a cane for his old friend to help him walk in his old days? Maybe some fancy walking stick, with carvings or even some jewels to show his status?" asked older man , giving him a questioning look.

'Well, that's how a proper staff look, doesn't it?' Harry thought, at which he heard a snort.

Looking to the source of the noise, he noticed Magie leaning against one of the walls, smirking at him like was a complete moron, that he now knew he was.

"You mean, Merlin didn't need anything to do magic?" Harry asked, turning back to the phantom, and receiving a nod in return.

"Nor did his apprentices, or theirs. Or anyone at that time that I know of. That's how the four of us came up with an idea of a place where people could gather and learn from one another. Before that, if you didn't have enough luck to meet a skilled wizard, only thing was to self study by trying different things and a lot of time. I was lucky enough to meet one crossing fen where my family used to live..."

"Wait, weren't you from long line of wizards?" Harry had to interrupt.

"No. Godric and Rowena were from a line of nobles, just hear how their names sound. But still, it wasn't line of wizards. It was good that they weren't main heirs, since that would spoil their plans to pursue magical study. As for me and Helga, we were commoners. But that was the point at that time. No matter who you were, or where you came from, as long as you had this gift and followed couple simple rules, you were welcomed. This castle was raised mostly by people working together to learn what could be done with magic, and if it failed, trying something else. Before that, wizards were mostly hermits, living alone to learn as much they could without any interruptions. Ah, yes. How do you communicate with your magic?" asked the phantom.

"I talk to her." answered Harry looking at Magie, who showed him her tongue, still acting like she was angry at him for forgetting that magic without wands was possible.

Phantom blinked in surprise. "Like with a person?"

"Yes, she's a person, what else should she be?"

The older man thought hard for a while, clearly trying to use whatever thinking process he had to tie some memories together and figure something out.

"Could you ask her to touch this stone?" the phantom asked after some time in silence.

'Magie, could you?' Harry asked, at which she just huffed with her nose in the air.

'Pretty please.' he added, giving her his best puppy eyes, at which she cracked a smile, and while walking to the table, hit him on the back of his head. Harry scowled a bit, but couldn't help a smile of his own.

All the while, the phantom was watching how Harry acted, since he could only see this part of the confrontation.

But when Magie touched the stone, there was a feeling like a electric charge passed over everyone, and in addition, mirage of Salazar begun blinking rapidly, like he was hit by a bright flash. When his view cleared from stars, he could now see a young girl standing near him.

"I think you can remove your hand now, dear. Since I'm familiar with you, I think I'll be able to see you." he said, and after Magie stepped away from the stone, Salazar nodded that he could still see her. "I'm sorry for that burst of energy, but it was from two forces colliding. You should really learn how to blend in better, young lady."

"Blend in? And what's with this stone? And besides, you didn't told me why it was weird to talk with your magic like she was a person." Harry asked, having many more questions about what happened in last couple of minutes.

"Ah, yes. I'll start with the last, since you'll need it to understand the first two. Did you ever heard about people throwing bones or something similar like runes, other hearing wind whisper, or even someone saying that something would happen because it just looked like it?" Harry just nodded, not wanting to interrupt. "Those were most probably wizards. Whenever you heard a story about someone speaking with the spirits, ghost, any kind of the "unseen" it was most definitely one. Wizards were famous for they knew more than what could be seen by naked eye. Take for instance our four. Helga would watch the earth, since she worked on a farm from early years. Her favourite way was to throw stones. Rowena would follow the air, she said that from youngest years would throw small things out of the window of her tower in her family castle, and watch those bits dance on the wind. I watched the fire, keeping it alive in the damp moor. I made stories sitting by the flame, but once I understood that the fire was telling me stories instead. As for the bold Gryffindor, that golden boy couldn't go anywhere withouth a shine in his steps. That was usual joke, but as for an action lovin person, he sometimes was just too calm. He would sit near the watter and just watch light dance across the surface." shade of Salazar Slytherin told, with a faraway look, reliving memories of better times.

"You said you were on second year." phantom continued returning to here and now. "That's another thing that was different. Finding and understanding your own way of magic was a very personal thing. That's why you became an apprentice until such a time that you were capable on learning on your own. Of course, at Hogwarts you could have more than one mentor, but the fact remained that there was only one person who helped you discover how to communicate with magic."

"That's another , and probably most important thing that made us have this conversation. Wand-less magic is about understanding. See yourself as part of a greater thing, doing something to accomplish what you wanted, but in such a way as no to disturb more than you needed. That's why you needed to blend in with what was around you, and act with it, not against it. That's also why with different ways of "seeing" magic, everyone could do the same thing happen. Because, be it fire, smoke, dust or anything else, it was just another part of the same complex process. You just needed to understand how it worked together, and you could accomplish anything you wanted."

"We all emulated Merlin. He was a great man, and a great wizard. But some thought, just like you did, that his powers came from his staff, when really he had so much experience at that point that he probably didn't even had to concentrate to see magic at work, instead feeling it with his whole body and his every sense. It still didn't stop people from trying to construct magical staffs. In time, they succeed, and then made smaller and more portable ones, ending with wands. At the time I decided to leave, wands were pretty new, and since way of channelling magic changed, so did a way you needed to do your magic. It was evident with staffs that energy didn't come out of your whole body, instead concentrating on points where it could be used. Wands only made it worse."

"When someone cast a spell with one of those, it felt like you were standing next to a cannon as it was fired. So much force unleashed and charging through the surrounding area, disrupting everything around. But that wasn't worst thing. People were. It was progressing faster in muggle world, what with kingdoms wanting to take control over everything close enough to reach. And that was what wand magic was consisted of. No understanding, no contemplating. Just control. Man with power to control everything around and bend it to his will. They say power corrupts..." the phantom said, only now stopping in his tale.

Harry and Magie sat there stunned, not caring how much time went by, being drawn so much that nothing else mattered. It had even greater effect, because this wasn't just a tale. It explained their situation, making it feel like they were there them self.

"That's why I had to leave. The others said it wouldn't be so bad, bud I just couldn't shake this feeling, this chill creeping down my spine even as I was sitting by my fire. I just couldn't take any part in teaching or helping convert wand-less magic to one done by wands. It just didn't feel right." the older man said, evidently wrapping up his story.

"Eee..." Harry begun trying to reboot his thinking process over the information that was thrown on him. "You didn't explain the stone." he said, pointing to the rock that the parchment was pressed with.

"Oh, right. It was just before I left that we thought of a way to find out which kind of magic it would be best for them to start with. By that time, castle was complete and we were Grandmasters, with a few apprentices at Master level each, but we still had our main fields of interest. Helga taught everything useful, anything that you could use for work. I think they named this charms. Rowena was into research mostly, trying out new things all the time. It would be spell creation or something like that now. Gryffindor used to learn everything useful in battle, but due to his interaction with water he was natural at transfiguration. As for me, I learned everything that helped to survive. Plants, animals, potions of course, but also some mind magic to fool anyone that tracked me, or even reading minds. I think that's how I learned to talk to snakes, they would often come to warmth near the fire. Understanding animals is quite easy, but talking outright is something different."

"But back to the topic. We needed a way to check what you were most capable at, so we just gave a little of ourself into Godric's hat. I did the same to this stone. Anyone who didn't know how to do wand-less magic wouldn't notice me. Just like no one could open the door in the first place. They could have cast their spells all they wanted, but because of the power from their own spells it would just come up as a blank piece of wall." he finished with a snort.

"You mean there wasn't sorting into different houses or anything?" asked perplexed Harry.

"And why would you need that? I mean yes, people wanting to go deeper into one subject were closer with one master, but if you wanted to learn anything at all, you just asked person more experienced in it to give you pointers."

"And Slytherin's weren't suspicious of one another?"

"No. I mean, there was ambition and strive to be better that everyone else. To come better of after a week at a moor, it was quite a thing. But it was healthy competition. And besides, how could you prove that you had better skills than anybody else, if you were all alone all the time? My pupils were always together, wanting to top the best in the group. It was good for them. It made them want to do better at every opportunity."

"As we are talking about pupils, I made my choice." the phantom finally announced."You will be my heir."

"A what?" asked Harry, not knowing if he heard correctly.

"I'm going to make you my heir. It is in my power."

"And what would that require of me to do?"

"Very good answer." said the older man with a smile on his face.

"What answer?" asked confused Harry.

"Many would think that being a heir would consist of wealth, fortune and titles. But it wasn't always like that, and especially not when it came to wizards. Being a heir meant first and foremost to keep the tradition and strive to be a better king, noble, or when it came to wizards, teacher and mentor that the one you had, even if your predecessor was considered a living legend. It didn't matter, you were meant to ensure that ways that were passed down to you weren't forgotten."

"Now I understand from where pure-bloods took their fanatic belief in ancestry, thou they twisted original belief in following the tradition." Harry commented, seeing how proud Slytherin was while talking about it.

"That's why you should stop all this rubbish with teaching about goblin rebellions instead of telling what really happened. And no more wands from 382 B. C." Salazar said with a chuckle.

"But..." hesitated Harry. "I don't know anything about that. Magie does all the magic, and how am I to know history when it isn't taught properly?"

"For the first, I might have idea hot to help this lovely lady be even better at what she does. I might not know much more beside what I've told you, but I'm still cunning enough to work past that. But first I would need to enter your mind somehow, maybe some mind trick would work..."

"That shouldn't be a problem." said Magie, speaking up for the first time.

After checking that she could touch the phantom without the previous effect, she dug in her pockets and after finding some chalk, she drew a door on the wall. Amazement on the face of Salazar was priceless when after pushing at the door-wall, stones gave way to reveal a sight of the city Harry was by now too familiar with. Magie took the phantom inside, and after the door closed after them, they just reappeared at places they were the moment earlier.

"Young man, that mind of yours is another thing I don't remember seeing ever before."

"So, what do we do about the history part?" asked Harry.

"You might want to talk to someone else about that. It will be your first lesson at understanding. Talk with the statue in the main chamber, but remember to be respectful to her." was phantoms last advice before he and Magie vanished.

Harry had to smile. She was so excited when she could do just one more thing before getting tired. Today was definitely exhausting for her, but it seemed it didn't end for him yet.

Stepping back into the main chamber, Harry regarded the tall statue. Why did Salazar say to be respectful to her? He was deep underground, with stones around him and nothing more. And only human shaped statue was a male. Wait. Didn't he said something about people hearing wind speak?

"Mother Earth, whisper me a tale." Harry said, feeling stupid, but having no other ideas, and thinking it wouldn't hurt to try.

Remembering to be respectful, he bowed to the ground. He stood like that, keeping his eyes to the ground, even as something massive landed nearby and begun to slither around him. Harry quickly recognized snake that left the enormous shedding.

**"Mother earth. You're just like him. You even have the same feel about you."** hissed the giant snake. **"It just too bad that you didn't come before the other came. Lies and tricks, what have happened to wizards to be like that... Younglings told me the truth about that one. But you... You are just like him. I can sense it even after nearly a thousand years. Mother Earth..."** was added with a snake-laugh.

All this time, the snake was slithering and moving around him, that by the time it stopped, Harry was lying quite comfortably on top of its coils.

**"Speak young heir, what tale should your Old Mother tell..."**

It was quite different experience than a boring ghost, having a thousand year old basilisk telling you about the past.

* * *

AN. You might have noticed that I tend to write mile long sentences. It's just hard for me to stop at times, since to me this is one continuous thought. You'll just have to get used to it.

Another thing is that I don't really know a lot about many subjects, and what I know, I just twist so it fits situation I'm actually thinking about. If you see any error, tell me about it, I'll think, edit, explain, or just say that I don't care having something else on my mind...

This chapter longer, since I wrote something of my own, instead adding comments to the book.

I read a lot of fics where Harry is so special that he do magic like no one before, sometimes even breaking well known rules of magic. I thought screw that, lets make it so he is the one doing it right.

As said earlier, phantom of Salazar Slytherin isn't Salazar himself, so no instant power-ups. He's just another "advisor" Harry have in his head. And no. That rock wasn't horcrux or anything. Just set of memories like Snape gave Harry in the last book combined with how Sorting Hat works, as it can think for itself.

Basilisk can be a nice pet too. Since Salazar had it as familiar, it can be done. The basilisk rampaging throughout the school hissing so loudly you can hear it through walls isn't a hunter. It's a pissed off snake saying "Get out of my way, or die." I can imagine young Riddle sweat talking how people were spoiling Salazar's work, if you want my explanation at how it worked the first time around.

As I'm in a bit of rambling fit, I don't really know what else should be explained here. If you need to know, just ask about it. I need to sleep this one out now, since it's 7:20am now and I haven't slept all nig...zzzZZZ


	20. Fundamental truths

I threw my copies of Harry Potter series out when I noticed that it's easier to write what you want to say instead concentrating on twisting someone's work. If you want them, they should be still lying somewhere under my window. Just look for Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling.

* * *

From that day, Harry still continued his visits to library, but not to dig through every book in search of answers. It was more to make sure people still knew he was around, even if it was only Hermione and Neville, and to find snippets of information that were lost from memories of his new mentors. Rest of the time he spent under tutelage of inhabitants of Chamber of Secrets. He still attended his classes, not to learn spells, as he could be waving his wand all day without any results, but to listen to the theory of what the spell did, and give Magie place to practice without anyone suspecting anything.

Salazar's word about being in power of making Harry his heir didn't consider any rituals or even anything like lightning coming out of the clear sky to announce it. What Slytherin did, was talk. He talked with Harry about being a wizard, nothing more. It was good enough that they could do this in private, while sitting by the fire near Salazar's new house on a fen near the City. Thou, talking was a bit too much for it.

Slytherin would give Harry an unique kind of homework. He would name one topic, or ask a single question, and give Harry time to think about it. Then he wouldn't ask what he made of it, but rather how it was connected with a topic that didn't seem connected in any way, or how you could bring something to a place that normally it would never find itself in. Riddles like "Why no one would pay any attention to a elephant in a porcelain shop?" or "How could you jump higher than a three story building, while not having any miraculous powers?" to name a few. If you're wondering about it now, then it isn't so surprising to see a porcelain elephant. As for the second one, buildings simply don't jump, so jumping higher isn't a problem.

You could name it as just another kind of word game, or just a big waste of time considering events that couldn't even happen. But what it was, was a show of possibilities. With every answer Harry understood more and more, that nothing is really set in stone, and even if it is, there are many different angles you could consider it from. Playing with language was just easiest way of juggling ideas.

Everyone heard that a picture is worth a thousand words, but that's just because it lets you know what someone meant faster, without all the trouble of having to talk about it to you. Words, pictures, or anything else. They don't matter. What does is idea standing behind them. If you don't believe me, then take a book written in a language you don't know. It surely is filled with words, but what good it does to you when you don't know their meaning. On the other hand, if you would listen to a sad song without lyrics, then no matter where it comes from, you still can feel sadness flowing out of the notes. Without knowing the feeling, being sad is just a meaningless expression. Understanding someone isn't about knowing what words he spoke, but catching that fleeting idea that he is trying to share.

That's what Harry was learning. By breaking down language barriers and playing with words, he was ridding himself from walls put between concepts. Because really, who of you would think that word "deliver" could mean someone's liver.

But as strange that kind of thinking would be considered, it didn't make him act any more strange. In fact Salazar stressed that being a mage wasn't about acting anything different. Truth be told, if a wandless magic user did everything right, no one would notice a thing until it was pointed to them.

That kind of acting explained why modern wizards needed International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, as wand magic could be spotted from a mile away with all the suspicious hands movement, and not to forget, all the lights coming with it. The thing with wizards knowing less than nothing about muggles wasn't helping.

Modern look on wandless magic was that it wasn't possible, and the few that had the gift for it could do only small things. It went on and on how unprecise it was because you had to waste too much energy to do something major. Salazar could only laugh when Harry told him about the things written in those books. As he later explained, it was the other way around.

To put it into a picture, lets say you are in a long journey and immensely bored at this point, so you look for some form of entertainment. Something to read perhaps.

Using wand magic would be like beating the driver into submission so he would change the course and take you to a library, then doing the same thing with the librarian so she would give you a book you would like to read without any paperwork. Immensely time consuming and tiring course of action. Someone who was using wandless magic would just look around and ask person nearby if he could borrow newspaper, or just couple of pages that person had already read through.

Most surprising part of this metaphor is the driver, because it represents the body. That warm feeling in your fingers when everybody grabbed their proper wand for the first time wasn't some kind of signal from the wand. It was your body recognising a magic channel it was capable of using, and trying to push energy through it. With any other object, energy would just flow around it, but in that particular case, it was like trying to clean an old chimney. Sparks bursting out of the wand was quite a nice touch for the picture.

Then when you cast a spell, energy from your body had to gather in your wand, (Hurray for the waving part, giving you time), then force its way through any kind of energy in the air, and after getting to the object finally do its proper work. Just look how much you pay for lights in your home to know how much energy is lost by giving spells their glow. Wand users were in nearly constant state of replenishing their magical energy because their whole body was struggling to produce AND channel magic. That's why only most powerful wizards could do little stuff wandlessly as they produced more magic, some of it just slipping away.

Wandless magic on the other hand was about using energy that was already in the air. Just imagine yourself sitting in a cold closed room. Over time your body heat would make the room warmer. Magical energy radiated from every part of your body in similar way. But that energy didn't struggle with the surroundings, just mixing in small amounts with energy already present. And if you wanted to do something, magic "sticking" to the object you want to affect, or near it, was usually enough to do the trick.

It would be treated as a ridiculous notion by the magical community, but the only people that Harry could name that were still using magic as it was meant to, were children. Really young ones were too small to exhibit any magic, their bodies too busy with growing to waste any amount of energy by sending it outside. By the time the rapid growth stops they were probably already taught that some things just don't happen. But that leaves accidental magic, which really shouldn't be named that way. It was just response of body reacting on pure instinct to a great need of the mind, known truths be damned. Not-learnt magic, or something similar is more fitting. Just the thing about it being done by instinct should tell something how natural it should be.

But as their teaching progressed, it becomes evident that magical schools educate body to the centre, and slightly on one side. One could imagine that only your arm with mouth on it was suffice to do magic. And it was probably good image of the situation, because just like after living for 30 years a right handed person would start writing with left one, the same way would feel person trying to do wandless magic when he used wand for all those years. Yes, of course you can learn how to write with both hands, but you would still reach for everything with your main hand first. To learn wandless magic you would need to break through all those years of thinking with incantations and spell patterns in mind, before you would make any real progress.

Those things Harry will know after he will be done with the learning schedule that Salazar left in his memories, but for now, he was busy sneaking around the school for another bedtime story from a certain snake.

Slytherins monster Hogwarts legends call it. But even with deadliest venom and stare that could kill at first glance, it wasn't scariest thing about it. It was what was stored in a thousand year old mind. Because what really was purpose of basilisk in Chamber of Secrets was a role of messenger, bringing tales of old ways to anyone who wanted to listen.

Even locked inside the castle all those years, hibernating through some time, it knew what was happening. Past from listening to the stories passed down when Hogwart was being built, later heard from tales that other animals brought in exchange of advice from great snake. And even if they were only tales for the old serpent, probably repeated as they were heard, Harry could make connections between them.

Humans didn't start as great warriors, conquerors of the wild. At first, humans were scavengers, using their mental capacity to think of a way of scaring other animals from carcass of game hunted by a predator, eating fruits and mushrooms if there wasn't any meat. It was only when we thought of spears, distancing ourself from claws and teeth, that we trully started to hunt. But still, it was for smaller animals or fish. Primitive bows still didn't get us on top of food chain, as arrows shot from those were simply too weak to kill a boar, not saying anything about bear or mammoths. Humans were migrating mostly at that point, closely following animal. We struggled and fought, but we didn't rage war. We killed, but only something we could eat or in self defence, and never more that we could chew. And for a time, it was good.

Then we discovered the art of growing plants and cultivating land, and some of us settled down, others still wandering further to seek more land. To deal with changing weather we build shelters, to keep animals away we built fences. Man learning to deal with earth that didn't want to bear crops, fending off animals and weather. And for a time, that too was good.

But we became adept at what we did. Too adept. First from wood then stone, our walls went higher and higher, until no animal could get thorough, and weather was no problem. Earth gave multitude of food when we learnt what to do. And within our safe keep, well fed, we grew in strength and numbers. It wasn't that good that we grew in arrogance as well.

As earlier man was part of nature, living in it, among other species, now we could raze entire forests to the ground, going back to safety of our towns for sleep. Any animal "stupid" enough to attack us would be hunted down and killed, because how dare they attack one of us. Like burning large area just because we needed place place for a new field, no matter how many animals lived there, didn't count.

Harry sometimes just couldn't listen, when basilisk went into one of his rants. Monster they say, but while listening, you couldn't say that. After he was done ranting, the snake would take a deep breath, and continue, but in a voice of someone tired, someone who saw and listened to enough of terrible things. Harry couldn't believe when he heard the story of statues of snakes inside the chamber.

When place for them on the surface was growing smaller and smaller, snakes would come down to the Chamber. Hundreds of snakes, proud animals, choosing death from slow and painful struggle to catch anything to eat, that in the end they would still loose. Chamber of Secrets wasn't build with statues, and what was now acting as columns were thousands of serpents petrified when basilisk wasn't large enough to kill with his gaze fast enough.

It wasn't only muggle strive to control territory that was responsible for animals dying down. Wizards hid their lands, but new way of casting spells left no "free magic" hanging in the air, so all the species living off of it just dwindled in numbers. It went so far as that creatures like dragons and unicorns could live in larger groups only in reserves, among energy caught by tight wards, and partly on potions that wizards used to feed them so they could regrow ingredients that were harvested.

Basilisk told him that he would laugh to death if it came to pass, that humans cut one forest too much, and we would slowly run out of fresh air. Indeed that particular snake wasn't to eager to move from its lair to hunt people down. Not when we were making such a fine job at killing ourself.

But between what Harry heard from the serpent and anything that Slytherisn phantom contained in his memories, when he compared it with books about wizarding history, it came that sign over Olivanders shop wasn't the only misprint. It was like reading book from the middle.

Before the Wizengamot was formed there could have been nothing at all, there was so little information about history from that time. Harry would have learnt more believing in muggle legends and fairy tales from that time. As fantastic and over-exaggerated they were, with that piece of truth in every story, they were more than History of Magic books contained.

Of course, History of Magic book was filled with all those goblin rebellions, but with magical community hiding every piece of land they could from muggles, rapidly changing fauna, there must have been some struggle of who claimed what part. As victor writes the history, and Harry had only wizarding texts describing that event, it was clear whose side of the story he was reading.

But for Wizengamot itself it was just written that it was bunch of families joining in an alliance, and told about what was done couple generations later. One could say that true history was lost, but after some searching Harry found most interesting note. Because even if you didn't want to know what your family did during that time, you certainly wanted to know what your family owned.

What Wizengamot turned out to be was gathering of wand-craters, spell-inventors and other such occupations, proclaiming true and proper way of magic, as it would seem from the history. Earlier, with mages learning from talking to one another, they couldn't possibly earn anything from selling wands, spell books or anything in similar fashion, so it wasn't too good for their business to mention anything about "earlier".

So, what do a Heir-of-Slyherin-in-training do to overthrow an ancient society of merchatns who ensured that they fortune wouldn't be endangered? It was good that Harry was still in-training, because it left him much time to ponder on that question.

It was also good that certain pair of twins was too busy to catch his trips around the castle, as they were otherwise occupied...

* * *

AN. We know Voldemort could do magic before Hogwart, but he is too power hungry and too big of a control freak to do it. Sorry Voldie, only wand waving for you.

Yeah, yeah. I know that I don't know anything about history. This is fiction, move along.

If snake words offend anyone, then its good that I deleted most of what was there. I just sometimes have that louse mood and go into hissy fit. If anyone need overall human bashing material, just write me.

Note to self: rewrite this crap.


	21. Unusual behaviours

OK, no worry. I salvaged my books from the lawn, and they pretty much intact. Well you know, original Harry Potter books by J. K. Rowling will still be useful in writing this fick. Even if only for checking time-line.

* * *

But as Harry was learning all those things, time didn't stop for him to do so, and he still needed to participate in school life. Most notably Quidditch practices, as Wood doubled training time, saying that they won with Slytherins only because they weren't familiar with their brooms, something Gryffindor team couldn't count on, as the green robed team was spending many hours correcting that. Woods immediate response to that, was to increase number of trainings, and Harry again was reminded that you simply couldn't speak fanatics out of something. If it would rain any harder that day, it would be like playing in the giant lake, but then Wood would probably just train them how to grow gills.

So it was drenched Harry Potter getting back to the common room one stormy Saturday, that spotted Nearly Headless Nick, ghost of Gryffindor, staring out of the window with face as gloomy as the weather.

"Hello Sir Nicholas" said Harry, wondering if using honorific's would uplift ghosts mood, remembering that he didn't like nickname that students gave him.

"Ah, hello." responded ghost that was brought from his thoughts. "You look troubled, young Potter." Nick added after noticing frown that seemed to be Harry's constant companion nowadays.

"So do you." replied Harry, noting his sober thoughtfulness.

At first, Gryffindor ghost wanted to dismiss it, but then burst with how a half an inch of skin really shouldn't be the whole reason why he hadn't been accepted to join the Headless Hunt, showing the letter that was sent back to him as he went on with complaints. Harry was glad that he didn't do the nearly-headless comment. But that rant didn't last long, because Mrs. Norris showed and went on mewling at the muddy puddle that gathered at his feat.

Sir Nicholas went to warn him that Filch was in a bad mood because even when sick he had to work to clean some nasty things from dungeons, but Harry just watched his mud stained clothes, then quickly contemplated just how old could ghost before him be. Finally he looked at Nick and winked, as dirt from his robes just flowed to the ground, mixed with what already was on the floor, and formed into pair of sticky shoes that went on down the corridor with Mrs. Norris chasing after them. At least that was what Nick saw, being unable to see Magie taking a stroll in her fancy pair of shoes.

When he turned back to Harry, he saw that the young man stepped nearer to the window that the ghost was hovering by, leaving an continuous line of footprints on the floor. Harry could just put his finger to his lips signalling to the ghost to stay quiet, when Argus Filch came into the hallway, wheezing probably not from the run through the school, but also from the flu which signs were clearly noticeable.

"Who!..." the caretaker tried to ask pointing to the mud on the floor, while still taking deep breaths.

"I wouldn't know, sir, as we just came here. It was good enough that Sir Nicholas was so good as to accompany me while I waited by the door to dry off." Harry said, Nick giving just slight bow of acknowledgement.

Filch looked at the marks on the floor, then back to Harry whose robes were certainly damp, but not as mud dripping as it would require to leave marks that he could see.

"You don't look too good, sir." Harry said, pointing Filch's sickened look. "Maybe I could help clean this part of hallway? It would give us opportunity to finish our discussion." he added pointing to Nick still hovering nearby.

"I don't want you showing off your magic tricks..." snapped Filch.

"I don't bring my wand outside any more, because I could lose it in this weather. But my aunt made me clean the floor more than once, sir."

Of course Harry didn't want to get in trouble for the mess on the floor, but he also didn't want someone else cleaning something that was his mistake. Harry saw enough times caretakers doing their work when he was still in muggle school, staying long after lessons ended to make sure Dudley didn't linger nearby, talking with his gang.

Every child in school thought that one chewing gum, or piece of trash that they dropped wasn't a big thing. But if in entire school there was couple of hundreds of students, and even if only part of them did it, you got a massive amount of things to clean, after just one day of school, instead of just making sure everything was in order in every class.

Argus Filch had to do a double take of the situation. He could easily do the same job in muggle society, without half the trouble he had here, but that thrice damned Headmaster talked him into taking the position, with words of how good it would be to show students that not everything had to be done with magic. But when he first appeared on the halls of Hogwart, his work wasn't appreciated, but ridiculed by students, who appeared to be having good fun making his work harder. So as the pranks grew more vicious, so did his responses to the students, till the point where he found guilty children who didn't even notice they were doing anything wrong.

But now, he had a young man standing before him, asking if he could be of any assistance even if he could get out of cleaning corridors without much trying. Argus Filch nodded, and begun to lead Harry to his office for an additional mop, just to see if he was serious about it. When he got to his office and spotted letter from "Kwikspell: A correspondence course in beginners magic." he stiffened and then hurriedly hid his secret, fearing someone could have seen it. But when he gazed at Harry to see if he was watching for a blackmail material with which he could get out of future punishments, he saw him standing in front of the office with his back to the door, minding his own business and waiting patiently.

"Here's the mop. Just leave it when you finish, I'll pick it on my way back." said the caretaker sending Harry on his way. Filch really had to wonder if there were cases where you didn't have to teach discipline by hanging students from the ceiling by their ankles to get the point across. His amazement would reach new heights when he would go to inspect the hallway, finding spotless floor that didn't need second round of cleaning.

"Harry, that... I never... I mean, I've heard, but I've never seen..." stammered Gryffindor ghost when Harry got back and started cleaning the floor.

"Erm, about that bit of magic. You mind not spreading it too much? I wouldn't be too sure of that little secret coming to light just yet. Maybe I could do something for you to ensure that stayed private for now?" Harry asked astonished ghost.

"You don't have to bargain with me about that, you could have just asked." said ghost, standing just slightly straighter. "But it would be nice if you could come to my five hundredth death-day. Unfortunately its the same time when the school feast takes place, so I would understand if you were unable to come."

Right then Harry had an idea. "Will those guys from Headless Hunt be there?"

"They are invited, but why do you ask?"

"Lets make a deal. I'll come to your death-day, and if I can give you another chance at joining them, then you'll tell me about some things you remember from the past and we'll call it even. How about that?" asked Harry, just now realising that there were more than single hundreds year old being at the castle.

"Young man, you got yourself a deal." answered much more cheerful ghost.

"OK, so you could start by telling me about this Headless Hunt thing, while I'm busy with cleaning the floor..."

* * *

Halloween arrived, and as Harry was going down to the dungeons, Hermione and Neville accompanied him. Hermione was thrilled to learn something new, saying things like there probably weren't many people who were at a death-day party. Neville just shrugged and said that any random thing happening around Harry would be more entertaining than any kind of party. If you added ghosts to it, he couldn't think of a way to top the show that was sure to happen.

After going through the hallway that was now looking more tomb like than ever, they arrived at the door and were greeted by the host, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. Hermione and Neville went straight inside, but Harry lingered slightly to exchange couple of words with the ancient ghost.

"What was that about?" asked Neville after Harry rejoined them, clearly pleased with whatever he heard.

"You'll see." Harry replied. Hermione looked confused and turned to Neville if he knew something. Neville just responded with I-knew-there-would-be-some-kind-of-a-show kind of shrug.

Time went on with the three watching social behaviour of the dead, "You never know if you won't need it." joked Harry when one ghost asked why he was watching everything so closely, but more than that ghosts didn't bother the living too much. It was good, as the chill tended to be stronger near the spectres, and with whatever freezing feeling that was lingering in the air, warmer clothes that they prepared beforehand dealt good enough.

The only other time when they were disturbed by a ghost was when Peeves came to them with Myrthle, trying to convince the girl-ghost what awful things they said about her. Hermione went on defensive, looking far too ashamed of herself for any comments about how pretty the ghost was to be effective. Good enough that Harry helped her along.

"I must say that I agree. You look so nice, that I would like to ask you for a dance." he said while extending his hand, doing a short bow at the same time.

"You just want to make a joke of me. Tell later how Mythle can't dance." the ghost scowled at him, complaining in her wailing voice.

"You at least don't have to worry about tripping over your own feet like I do." Harry responded, making joke at his own inexperience when it came to dancing, which actually, managed to get a slight giggle from the usually moaning ghost. "But I don't know any dead music, nor any kind of wizarding music to be exact. Would you mind asking the band to play something easy to dance to?" Harry continued.

Myrthle was just too happy to ensure an occasion to dance, not trusting that it would stay that way for long. Because she didn't meet many young boys wanting to dance with her, not minding that others would see, to a song that she picked. There weren't any occasions like that, not when she was alive, and certainly not after she died. Until now.

"Quite well done, young Potter." commented Sir Nicholas after the ghost of the girl was gone. His living friends on the other hand just stared at him like he was out of his mind.

"What? It's just pointless to assure someone with words, when he was earlier hurt by them. It is easier to reassure them by simply showing that you mean it." he responded to the stares, but didn't have opportunity to add anything. Same thing that cut him short unabled Myrthle to ask the band for a certain song. The same thing still, made Harry and Nick to exchange a meaningful look which Neville caught and just knew that show was about to begin.

The thing that did all this, was a sound of a hunting horn coming from a distance. Just moments later dozen of riders on ghost horses burst through the dungeon walls. When others were still around the dungeon, the lead rider, the one blowing the horn, came down from his horse and strode in direction of host of the party, who appeared to be busy talking with a living boy.

"Nick! How are you? Head still hanging in there?" greeted the rider loudly, making ghost that were watching chuckle at the joke.

Sir Nicholas just made a short pause in his talk with Harry to acknowledge the ghost.

"Ah, Patrick, you arrived. Good, good. Welcome to the party, and enjoy." he said half-heartedly, and immediately went back to his talk.

That made riders stop, and everyone fell silent over that obvious disregard of someone as important as Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmor, leader of Headless Hunt, and owner of probably foot long list of other titles. Sir Patrick just blinked in surprise.

"Young man, why don't you leave so the dead can talk in peace?" Patrick tried an different approach.

"I'm sorry and mean no disrespect sir, but the subject is just too interesting to end it at this point." Harry responded in the same voice which Nick used earlier.

Sir Patrick was again speechless, being disregarded as unimportant by a mere human.

"Boy, don't you find me threatening? You would do better if you would run away, screaming, before I lose my temper." he said more firmly, while looking Harry in the eye, holding his head in his extended hand.

"If you ask for truth, I would say you're... fine for a ghost." responded Harry, sounding quite bored, which made ghost around the room snicker on Patrick's account. "But nothing as threatening as our own Sir Nicholas. That reminds me, Sir Nicholas, you didn't tell what exactly did you do to the first years dormitory, and how you possibly made those girls munch on that... But please, I just don't want to know where all the blood came from." said Harry with a shudder, clearly returning to their previous subject, but now in a voice everyone could hear.

While being a ghost you didn't have many things that caught your interest, so it was quite a all around sport, and later trading stories of how you traumatized and haunted the living. Hearing words like first year girls, lots of blood, and munching in same sentence just caught everyone's attention. Seeing Harry shudder and this horror struck look on the other living faces, ensured that story was at least partly true. Neville and Hermione got that expression because they were simply surprised, not hearing the story before.

"Ah, you see, the blood wasn't the main problem. The meaty parts were. They just didn't stick to the walls. Kept sliding to the floor. As for making kids eat it, I just convinced them it was candy." said Sir Nicholas continuing as they have planned.

Hearing that most of the jaws in the room dropped to the floor. In case of couple of more decayed ghosts, quite literally.

"Wait, if he does that sort of things, why are you still talking to him?" interrupted Sir Patrick.

"Because all the horror is worth being given a chance to find guidance from such a fine mind, with so many years of experience." Harry replied.

"Don't listen to him, he's just young." responded Sir Nicholas, playing the humble part. "But it is quite true that if you would have added me to the Headless Hunt, being unable to play a game of Horseback Head Juggling or Head Polo would be smallest of my problems, as I fear I wouldn't have any time to spare to play with you." he continued, sounding nothing like he cared about not getting to the club, making whisper around him much louder.

"Oh, surely we could schedule something. And there are many others games we could play." tried Sir Patrick.

"Well, maybe." allowed Nick "But I don't see how it is of any importance as I'm not a member." he added with a shrug.

"Let us talk about that part." quickly replied Sir Patrick while dragging ghost of Gryffindor tower into secluded part of the dungeon.

After Harry danced with Myrthle just like he promised, even as it was kind of awkward experience, the only three living beings concluded that they had enough, and politely made their exit. But while going back to the common room, Hermione just couldn't stop herself and burst with questions.

"What was all that about that?"

"Well, Nick wanted to get into this Headless Hunt club of some kind. Something with status being important even after you were dead. But when he told me about it, I thought it was just group of buffoons." Harry commented.

"Why is that?" asked Neville, wanting to understand this part before Hermione would throw different set of questions.

"Well, I don't know them, but just think about it. Beheading in the past was commonly used form of execution, being done in front of everyone, kind of show-like. Not mentioning that to get there you had to commit some sort of crime, or just plainly enrage enough people. But those guys even after they died that way, are trying to act superior. Like having your head cut off was best way to die." Harry said shaking his head.

"So why the show?" urged Hermione.

"Oh, it is just people like that like to deny entry to anyone, even if they clearly have the right to be there. You know, to show that only few can have such an honour. Sir Nicholas being nearly headless, as hard as he tried to get in, he was just ridiculed more. But when someone who is popular and shows how their little club is unimportant, THEY try to get him to change his mind. Partly because they want for him to stop talking about them in that way, but in part because having another popular and important member raise their prestige. That's why this little show making Nick look frightening, noble, and wise." he finished with a shrug.

"That reminds me. What did you really do to first year girls dormitory?" asked Neville.

"Erm... I filled it with things like jelly among other stuff, and dumped a ton of syrup over it." said Harry quietly, making his two companions stop with confused looks on their faces.

"What? First years didn't complain about their new tapestry, they found it quite tasty to be exact. But to ghosts who can't make distinction between syrup or anything else, since they can't smell or taste it, it would look like..."

"Scene from a horror movie with little girls munching on..." Hermione finished in a whisper with horror-struck expression, face slapping herself as to not finish that particular thought. Neville meanwhile just doubled with laughter.


	22. Strange, isn't it?

Even if I would be a twin of J. K. Rowling, my writing style is nothing like hers. Since she doesn't have a twin, and I don't have a writing style to talk about, this side of pondering if I own Harry Potter is moot from the start.

* * *

Living in Hogwarts was strange at times. Well, this sentence isn't as surprising when you consider what Hogwarts taught, unless it is added that it isn't that side of strange that I'm talking about. With all the things that could happen in a magical school, it is surprising that majority of students were content with following just few that stood out most, trading stories regarding them, making the school to be one big rumour mill. Well, maybe in this regard, the magical community was just like the rest of the world.

When the buzz regarding Halloween ended, the school would always catch second wind, switching to the subject of Quidditch match that was always scheduled short time after. But this year, there was slight bump in this, caused by something that happened couple of days before the game.

Harry was heading to breakfast, when he was intercepted by certain twins, who started walking on either side of him, making him unable to not hear what they were talking about.

"Oh, dear brother of mine. You remember that Potter kid that we conversed with couple of days ago?" started one of them.

"Vaguely." commented the other, making Harry shake his head.

"Yes, quite right. But he made that comment about only snobs attending this fabulous institution." the first one went on, with his nose in the air.

"As, interesting as that might be, dear brother, we could never know how such a thing would look like." came a reply, after which they looked at each other, shrugged, and went on their way.

That made Harry stop in his track, but only for a moment, after which Weasley Twins praking reputation caught up to him. He moved, slightly faster, after the twins who were heading to the Great Hall. He felt that he didn't want to miss this.

* * *

Breakfast at first was just like any other, in spite of Harry's attempts to catch something amiss.

And then it happened.

There was a commotion at the Slytherin table, with choir of surprised yelps, and shouts of outrage. When Harry turned to look what was happening, he saw something that looked like a caricature of what twins were hinting at just moments earlier, because now House of Slytherin consisted only of Crabbe's, Goyle's and Malfoy's. Or rather, people who looked like them. The only part wrong, were proportions. You got three foot Crabbe and Goyle, standing near six foot tall Malfoy in one place, and short, chubby Malfoy, with stick-like guard.

But as whole Hall roared with laughter, Harry's new found "How you could do that" nature kicked in.

'I think I read something about a potion that would let you transform into someone else, but to change proportions you would...' he didn't finish, as someone snapped their fingers right in front of his face. Jumping slightly he turned to see Magie sitting on the table. After rising an eyebrow at the surprise on his face, she pointed to the commotion.

Paying attention again, he noticed that the picture have changed. Now everyone looked normal, if you didn't count a party mask on their face.

'Can you make it back?' he asked, turning to Magie.

She just swept her hand over his face, closing his eyes just for a moment, after which he could again see the bizarre event that was going on. Watching closely, he could think of only one thing. Distortions.

The bent mirror effect was caused by light going through areas of different density, making it refract. It was the same thing as with light crossing between water and air, but more complex, since instead misplacing, you wanted to distort things, and had only air to work with. Complex, but doable.

The funniest thing was, that when teachers would want to dispel it, they will concentrate on the physical change, since you couldn't see difference between mask and body in the changed image. But it wouldn't help them much, since the surrounding was affected.

With that question answered, Harry watched the show of all the Malfoy's stating who they were, when teachers tried to bring at least some order. It was close enough to them saying "I'm better than this." while wearing Malfoy's face.

But after a couple of minutes, he had another thing that he had to contemplate.

* * *

Late in the evening when everyone were preparing to bed, Harry still sat in the common room, staring into the fire.

'What's bugging you this time?' Magie asked.

'You know, watching all those Malfoy's in the great hall, it struck a chord and I got this idea, but I just can't prove it.' he answered, slightly surprised that this time, she was lying on the couch instead of appearing in strange way.

'What idea? And what was so interesting in this prank?'

'The thing was seeing all the "similar" people in one place. And I've been wondering, maybe pure-bloods are right.' he said, again thinking hard.

'Pure-bloods are right?' Magie asked disbelievingly.

'Oh, no. Not about all that superiority. But they're saying that magic is in the blood. Maybe they're right about that part.' he replied with a frown.

'How so?'

'Salazar told us that before Hogwarts, you had to be lucky to find a wizard to train you. But with a place where all the "similar" people could meet... What if magic indeed is in the blood. Or in genes more exactly. Look at it like on the entire earth, there were only couple of people with green eyes, or brown hair. Since there is no one like them around, their children may, or may not have the same eyes or hair colour. But this is still in the genes, so after couple of generations, or when you meet a person with someone who had green-eyed father, your children had more chance for it. Some place in time it would surface. But when Hogwarts was built, there was a place where only brown haired, green eyed people were. Maybe at first it didn't matter, but after couple of generations...'

'You would have only wizards born in wizard families.' finished Magie, seeing his point.

'Well, not exactly, since there is always a chance for a squib. But it still fits, since now non-magic genes are the ones surfacing once in a while. It also explains why there are so many muggleborns. With population way, way higher than when Hogwarts was built, there is higher probability of someone having right set of genes. So, if once there was one wizards every ten thousand children, and it stayed that way...'

'Considering population, we have enough wizards to fill the school.' once again finished Magie. 'It sounds good, so why are you still pondering this?'

'Because no matter how hard I think about it, I can't prove any of this. I just don't know enough. My only proof is that it fits.' he answered, rubbing his eyes, and then started to chuckle slightly. 'But I have to say, that I like this idea more and more when I think about proving it to the pure-bloods."

'Why is that?'

'Imagine them, with their arrogance, being told that they're no more than another minority.'

* * *

AN. Sorry for the wait. Even thou I had this sketched out, I just couldn't sit down and write it. Even now its kind of too short for me, and doesn't look entirely right.

At first I thought about Polyjuicing older Slytherines to look like Malfoy, and giving lower years party masks with goofy Crabbe and Goyle faces. Then I remembered that we are only at year 2, so Malfoy is younger and wouldn't be able to be part of "Malfoy's" group. Also it takes too long to make so much polyjuice just for a prank. Last thing is that in the books Twins were more of Charms masters than anything else, so this prank should play in their field.

About my look on magic. Who said that magic have to be miraculous and break any science law there is. I think that magic is just a shortcut through those laws, letting you do right now what would require complicated machinery, or years of research. Or... we still don't know every right or exception's from the rights that we have now. That's why Harry, or any other mage should, learn about his surroundings. Doing something by force, simply because you can, is easy. But repercussions of that can be far greater than anyone expects.

Since yesterday was first day of school for me, I don't know what will happen when they will throw real assignments at me. Its either of two. School-work will consume too much of my time for me to write as much as I would like to, or I will write more, since I tend to run away from hard work, searching for something more fun/creative...


	23. Acting 101

I'm still studying. J. K. Rowling has that behind her. If that in itself isn't enough, I can give you my exams shedule, which clearly state that I wouldn't have the time to write Harry Potter series.

* * *

'Acting is so much fun.' Harry thought to himself after another Defence Against the Dark Arts class.

After accident with pixies, Gilderoy didn't risk another "remodelling" of his class, opting instead for reading passages from his books, picking Harry to re-enact it with him.

But Harry didn't mind. Acting was useful in so many ways. You could raise your creativity by creating characters, making them evolve as the scene progressed. Sometimes it was easier to say what was troubling you, when you were pretending to be someone else speaking about the problem. Also it helped to dissolve problems before them got out of hand. You just switch the battling sides places, making them "pretend" to be the other side, and by extension, admitting that they act in a biased way. Not to forget that it was immensely fun to play with acting. It allows you to be as weird or goofy as you would like, act in any strange way you could possibly imagine, and it would be okay to do so.

In this instance, it was fun making fool out of Lockhart just by playing his part.

This particular class, Gilderoy was trying to convince Harry to play a part of Werewolf. But when scene started, Harry just stood there, cleaning his fingernails. Lockhart blinked. Then went into next motivational speech, urging Harry to do his best. When Harry said he was ready, scene started again... and this time Harry just rocked on the balls of his feet. Gilderoy tried again and again, every time harder than before, to make Harry act like a Werewolf. And every single time, Harry found some other unimportant thing to do.

"Harry, why aren't you acting like a werewolf?" finally asked irritated Defence Instructor.

"But Professor, I am." innocently replied Harry with confusion all over his face.

"No, you're not. You don't howl or growl, you don't imitate fangs or claws, and..."

"But Professor," interrupted him Harry, speaking in the same manner as before. "It's the middle of a day, and full moon is still couple of weeks away. There is no chance for that kind of Werewolf..." after which there could be heard suppressed chuckles from Gryffindors, and snorts of laughter from Slytherins in response of the petty joke.

"But Harry! We are ACTING!" whined Lockhart. If he would just stamp his feet, he would look more like a spoiled child, rather than adult.

"Professor, lets then bring some props and decorations to make it more believable."

Gilderoy stopped, and a pleased smile blossomed on his face.

"What a swell idea! Why haven't I thought about it before. Bravo for that Harry. Bravo." Lockhart applauded, glad that Harry was at last taking part in the scene. But, it was short lived...

"Great. Then while I prepare, why don't you transfigurate the decorations to look just like the scene of the duel looked like?" Harry said, and not waiting for response, left the room to "prepare".

Defence Professor was left standing awkwardly in front of the class, which was watching his every move. Thinking fast about how to sidestep displaying his lack of skill with a wand, he quickly begun his usual "Well, you all know that I could do it with ease, but I'm a teacher, and it would be good opportunity for you to practice your transfiguration skills. So, anyone?..." at which snorts or shakes of head were only reply as he tried to find someone who would do it for him.

In fact, over last couple of lessons, there was a neck-breaking fall in how much people in Harry's defence class respected Gilderoy Lockhart. And when stories about it spread over the rest of the school, there was similar trend in the rest of the student population.

First time Gilderoy made Harry play a part of villager affected by Babbling Curse. After Lockhart "cured" him, Harry couldn't (or more likely refused) to speak... for an entire day. Neville helped him with the act by repeating story Harry wrote him on parchment, that Gilderoy cast a spell unabling him to talk. No amount of scanning by school nurse, did show anything. Gilderoy, when asked about the incident, went on in a speech about complications in very precise spell... When Harry mysteriously regained his voice, he simply commented that "Unabling someone to speak, saves him discomfort of non stop babbling... so essentially, it worked."

Next time Lockhart tried, Harry was meant to be a Yeti. When he heard that, he grabbed pair of dirty sponges from the blackboard, and made a huge cloud from it. When dusty powder settled down... no one saw Harry till the end of the lesson, and no amount of searching that Gilderoy did brought him closer to locating him. When the bell rung Harry just stepped out of Defence Professor's private quarters with cup of tea in his hand and munching on some snacks, with "Can I stop acting? Staying hidden all the time is such a hard thing to do..."

But what Harry called "his best act" was when he had to play the part of a vampire. He begun with draping his robes across his face, speaking his lines with distinctive accent and emanating a low deep chuckle, while backing in to the shadow in the corner, guarding himself from light at all times. It was probably the cheesiest Count Dracula ever made. But when he was fully hid in the shadow, and Gilderoy was playing his over-dramatic part of waiting to be attacked, Harry, with Magie's help, just levitated fastly transfigurated toy bat on top of Lockhart's head, making it stick in place. What commenced afterwards, was five minutes of Gilderoy Lockhart bouncing against the walls, screeching an ear-piercing sound, and screaming for someone to get this "horrid beast" away from him every time he had enough breath to do it. It only stopped because the transfiguration reversed and toy broke apart.

Getting back to here and now, Gilderoy seeing that no one was interested in helping him, just told them that their homework was to write a poem about his victory over the Wagga Wagga Werewolf. Would be it much of a surprise if I said that most of them displayed how he waited a month for full moon to battle the werewolf?

'Oh yes, acting can be so much fun.' Harry thought again.

* * *

Day of the match came, and massive amount of excitement followed. Earlier everyone wanted for Slytherin to lose, just to unable them striding around school like they owned it. But now there were some that couldn't bet against a team with newest brooms available. Only Griffindor team experience balanced odds somehow. And of course, there was Harry. Harry once again was in the spotlight, as everyone awaited what he would come up with now.

While everyone got into their seats, captains gave their team pep-talks. When they were ready, Madam Hooch released the balls, and game begun. It was evident that Slytherins practised using their new brooms, because they quickly dominated the field. They were blurs, and field seemed to be filled with green. But Gryffindors weren't slacking, and Slytherin attack was taken out by precisely aimed bludgers from Weasley twins. Those few that got past that, were stopped by Wood. Gryffindor chasers, using short passes, managed to get the action under Slytherin goal posts, only to be overwhelmed by every player from the other team, as they always managed to cross the length of the field faster. It was a stalemate, and unless one of the teams would let go, it could go a long time, totally exhausting players. It was evident that the game would be decided among the Seekers.

Harry saw that, and he had to think about something. Draco was following his every move, counting on his superior broom to catch the snitch first. All he had to do was to wait for Harry to spot and move for the snitch, in attempt to end the game early, as it was evident that Gryffindors were compensating poor equipment with stamina. So Harry begun slowly moving across the field, keeping one eye on a game, and the other at the snitch, with Malfoy constantly in tow. After a moment of this, he accelerated, but not to a speed that would state he was aiming for the snitch. As he flew, he begun to do barrel rolls, dives, or any other acrobatic stunt he could think of on the spot.

"You won't shake me off this time, Scar-head!" shouted Malfoy after one more violent evolution, but still followed Harry, as if doing everything he did in itself was a proof that Draco is a skilled flier. And as they accelerated further, one chasing after the other, it seemed that both forgot that they were supposed to chase the snitch, not each-other. As if he just remembered that, Harry stopped abruptly.

"Done running?" asked Malfoy, slightly out of breath due to the mid-air aerobic.

"I wasn't running, rather leading you into..." but he didn't finish, as the person he was talking to was struck by not one, but two perfectly aimed bludgers simultaneously, provided by the Twins. "Yeah, what I was saying..." commented Harry when Draco laid sprawled on the field.

Due to that slight slip in defences, Gryffindor lost couple of points, but without having to worry about competition, Harry could fully concentrate on the snitch, and caught it shortly after, winning the game.

* * *

AN. Yeah, as I said. Second day of classes and I already find too much time to think about non-school related subjects. Sorry for another short chapter, but at least its a fast update.


	24. Thinking outside the box

J. K. Rowlings ownership of Harry Potter is a lie, is a lie. Since I try to be original, you might at least think a while about it... Wait, did I wrote it right?...

* * *

After the game, Hogwarts once again settled in it's normal routine, at first filled with talk about latest game, later only with school-work. But once again there was change in this natural course of action, when announcement of duelling club, with first meeting that night. Neville and Hermione weren't particularly interested, since Neville still didn't break through his low self-esteem. Hermione was more troubled, since it was perfect opportunity to learn something new. But she summarised that she was more of a studious person, and violence wasn't particularly playing in her field. But Harry had more than his own thoughts to consider.

'Are we going?' Magie asked when he was sitting in his dormitory, having read the note on notice board when he was returning from classes.

'Well... As interesting as it is, I have a bad feeling that Lockhart will be instructing us.' Harry said with distaste.

'Why?' she asked with a frown.

'There wasn't name or notice of instructor. Bringing new one would probably require a fee, like they do with apparition course. Since this isn't such case, and only new teacher this year is Lockhart, he is most probably the one who proposed it. If it would be someone else, I assume that by now, Duelling Club would have a long tradition.'

'Oh, pish-posh. It isn't like you need to do exactly what everyone else does. Besides, you won't get too many chances to practice combat spells any time soon. And surely, you wouldn't want to be unprepared when the need arrives, right?' at which his response was to snort at her sidestepping mentioning that her lack of skill was the reason why he was unprepared.

'Besides' she continued, brighting up 'it's time you take a look at this.' she finished, bringing a leather bound book from behind her back.

'What is this?' he asked, while opening the book. Inside, he found pictures, but more interestingly, they were of people living in his head. 'You made a photo album?'

'Yes.' she answered, smiling brightly. 'I had this grand idea that when we would need someone to help' she glared at Harry to stop him from mentioning her skills 'we wouldn't have to think hard, just flip a couple of pages to find someone.' she finished, clearly proud of herself. Harry just stared at her incredulously.

'OK... I too, get bored sometimes.' Magie added, looking anywhere but him. Harry just chuckled, finding this answer more in her style.

He flipped couple more pages in the album and scowled.

'You know, when I think about duelling, or fighting, I can't omit thinking about someone getting hurt. I don't really remember anyone who could be... "violent" on a whim.' Harry said, having finished looking through the album.

'And why is that?' asked Salazar, who just appeared.

'What exactly?' responded Harry, not really knowing to what Slytherin was referring.

'With so many people in a single town, and every single one having entirely different mind set, there must have been some misunderstandings or even conflicts. So why aren't you able to think of one person who is at least a little violent, or angry?'

'I... haven't thought about it.'

Harry's first response was to answer "I don't know" but it wouldn't be fine with Slytherin if he did so. That phrase had some finality to it, some sense of failure, probably from overuse in classes or other score-related situations. On the other hand, expression "I haven't thought about it", brought possibility and openness to discus given subject. While the first one could mean that if the person haven't learned something by now, that person wouldn't do it at all, the second hinted that if the same person was given some time, they would come up with something, and even if it wouldn't be the ultimate answer, it would at least be probable. It could have even been that it was only Harry that made that distinction, but if Slytherin would end up in someone's else's head, he would would certainly do the same with other expressions. Because basically, Salazar couldn't stand when someone gave up.

'I think' Harry started after a while of thought. 'as different those mindsets might appear, there isn't any fighting over is, because I understand them all.' At Slytherins raised eyebrow, he continued. 'People around the world are different. But as different they are, they basically want the same things. Live a sound life, have a proper job, live happily with their family in a good house. However you name it, the general picture is essentially the same. But then you get further, explaining what exactly is "sound life" or "proper job", and that's where the trouble starts, because not everyone thinks the same way about some things. So the smaller details you specify, the smaller group of people who thinks the same way you do. When you would specify every single thing in the picture, it would be only your "dream" life. But since those different mindsets are in my head, I know everything about them. Where elsewhere people would start proving to one-another that their way of living is "proper", "better" or however you name it, there is no need for that, since I can understand each and every single one of them. And since in the city everyone speaks what they think, it helps instantly clear the air, instead of letting it linger and build over time.' he smiled at Magie while quoting her, but then he scowled as one particular thought hit him. 'Now that I think about it... there probably isn't that many people who one day just stand up and do awful things because they can or want to. While there are some like that, I think that most cases we hear about are result of stress, frustration or other things. Essentially people not knowing how to deal with their problems, allowing things to continue until such a point that they end up in drastic, tragic, way.'

After Harry finished, there was a short silence after which Slytherin nodded, agreeing that given what Harry knew, his logic was sound.

'Another instance when wizards had to understand more than could be seen. Trained wizard could be a great force on the battlefield, but to get to a level of "trained wizard" you had to learn many things. Thats why we were mainly regarded as scholars and advisor's. Starting a war when you were right at the kings side was easy, but it was quite different thing to act as mediator and end a dispute before it even started, even if it was over something like different things in different cultures being regarded as impolite.' Salazar commented and vanished.

Harry had to accept long ago, that beside his "think about it" homework, Slytherin would just appear and point to or ask a curious question about one thing or another.

'As fun all that is...' said Magie while rolling her eyes 'What are we going to do about the duelling club?'

'Why? Have you suddenly found someone?' Harry asked while noticing her smug smile.

'Look here.' she answered, while giving him another book, this one thinner, and with soft cover.

When he opened the first page, Harry had to stop and do a double check to make sure he was seeing right. On the page he was looking at, there was a picture of a tall, well built man, his body covered in cuts visible under what was left of his clothes. Maybe that in itself wasn't that strange, but the most peculiar things were what looked like completely smooth porcelain mask on his face, without even holes for eyes, and a big sword which he seemed to wield without any problems.

As Harry flipped couple of next pages, there were more pictures of people in similar fashion, with different degrees of right-out-of-battle look and weapons they were carrying. Swordsmen in armours, knife wielding people in light battle robes, there was even one with a scythe...

'Why haven't I seen any of them before?' Harry asked, still turning the pages, thou the book looked too thin to contain this many.

'Of course you did.' Magie answered matter of factly.

'But I don't remember meeting them...' he said, scowling.

'I didn't say you met them, I only said that you seen those before.'

Harry blinked. 'Then where did you get this from?' he asked while pointing at the thin book.

'From a comic-book stand.' Magie answered with a shrug.

'Comic-books?' Harry repeated, once again staring at the pictures. 'But I haven't read any...' he begun, confused, but stopped. 'Wait... there was this place on the way to school. Dudley and his gang hanged around, since it was nearest place with shops and other fun stuff. I never really went in there, and only saw glimpses of front covers...'

'Yep, that one.' Magie said, interrupting his reminiscence. 'So... are we going?' she asked again, growing impatient.

'Sure.' Harry finally said, smiling at her.

* * *

In the end, Neville and Hermione went as well. Neville couldn't pass watching Harry "at work". Hermione abandoned her thinking of pros and cons of going when it was evident that she would be the only one not to go. But when they entered the Great Hall at eight o'clock and saw, as Harry anticipated, Gilderoy Lockhart standing on the stage, already giving the welcoming speech.

The whole duelling club was in fact Lochart's ploy to build up his reputation among the students. That's why he picked a Potions professor, who, while all day spending in one room working on precise potions, couldn't possibly have any battle fitness or too much experience. He changed his mind in the instance when he was blasted from the stage in a way that simply couldn't help his credibility.

On the other hand, when students saw him being hit with an Expeliarmus, there were reactions varying from cheers to simple smiles. Lockhart could pass as celebrity for many years, if he only limited himself to couple public appearances each week. But while teaching at Hogwarts he was acting like like that every single day, and truth be told, it was sickening.

Celebrities should be treated more like super-heroes, rather than famous people. There is a side to their life where their which is fabulous, filled with red carpets, interviews and everything else. But they also, like everyone else, want to do normal day-to-day things, like sit in a restaurant with their friends, or even do shopping, without being assaulted.

No one can possibly be mega, ultra, or super, all the time, and that was why spending long times near Gilderoy could kill even the blind-sighted crushes some of the witches had. And yes, he could do that even without Harry Potter around, since all Harry did was to create situations in which Lockhart still tried to pretend he had no flaws.

Just like now, when, after being unceremoniously blasted of the stage, he was acting like he planed it all along.

"Ok, why don't you practice it now. It was good idea to start with this spell Professor Snape..." Gilderoy rambled on, trying to stall until slight dizziness that he still had, stopped.

"We will now split you into pairs so you can..." but he was interrupted by a raised hand. "Yes, what is your question?"

"Shouldn't we also try a protective spell? It would allow us to practice two spells at one time, then partners would just switch between attack and defence." Harry proposed, not particularly wanting to just stand still and wait to be blasted from his feet.

"Oh, why not. We might as well. Why don't you step right here, so we can teach first pair and show the spells at the same time." said Lockhart, not wanting to be the one to do the wand-work.

Harry hesitated for a while, not knowing if it would be all-right to perform magic while everyone observed his every move. But as he noticed that everyone were already staring at him, he just shrugged and went to the stage. He would think of something, like he always did.

"Right, so we need a pair for you. Maybe..." said Gilderoy, while scanning the crow.

"Malfoy." came from Snape, and without wasting time, Draco was on the stage.

"Well, then Harry. When Draco points his wand at you, you do _this_." he said while attempting some wiggling action, and dropped his wand. Harry just raised his eyebrow.

When Neville, standing in the back of the crowd, saw what Lockhart did, and that tic-like way Draco, who seemed to have developed a nervous reaction triggered by Harry, was clutching at his wad, he wished he had some of that corn-pop that Hermione told him about.

"On three." Gilderoy said. "One – Two – Three!"

At the starting call, Draco cast the disarming spell, and Harry did exactly what Lockhart did. He wiggled his wand and dropped it. Then bend town to pick it up, letting the spell float over his head.

When Draco took notice of what happened, he yelled another incantation, and it again missed Harry, as when he was straightening with his wand in hand, he stepped on his own robes, and fallen on his back. Over the next couple of minutes the Great Hall was filled with laughter at the sigh of more and more flustered Draco trying to aim at Harry who was falling in more and more bizarre way.

'I wonder if they would laugh harder if there would be mass of banana skins all over the stage, and Draco was throwing pies at me.' Harry thought as at last Snape and Lockhart intervened to end the scene.

Truth be told, Harry already knew that best defence was not to be where the spell hit. Dodging spells from Draco was nothing compared to getting away from Dudley's gang when they managed to surround him from time to time. At least after that, he knew how to fall without getting hurt.

But Draco obviously wasn't satisfied, seething with anger, he raised his wand and shouted "Serpensorita!" making a long black snake to shoot out of his wand. There were screams, and people quickly backed away from the dangerous animal. It didn't help when Lockhart blasted it into the air, supposedly trying to get rid of it. When it was back on the ground again, it was madder than before, hissing furiously and looking around for anyone near enough to strike.

"Expelliarmus." Harry said through gritted teeth, with his wand aimed at Gilderoy.

But instead the all of energy which always accompanied the spell, a piece of paper flew from seemingly nowhere, pushed by a wind that Harry couldn't feel. As it flew, the picture as now Harry noticed, grew and grew, until it was a size of a door and when it was right in front of Gilderoy, a person leaped out of it, the same well build man with faceless porcelain mask. He landed near Lockhart, grabbed his wand with one hand, and half-turning, kicked Gilderoy in the stomach. Lockhart was sent flying, and the faceless man just tossed his want in Harry's direction.

But Harry didn't pay any mind to the wand sailing through the air. He was just glad that as impresive the events only he could see were, they only took scant of a second, and while everyones attention was on the snake, no one noticed lack of light when Harry cast his spell.

He did it because in part he was angry at the man, as he could have harmed the snake. Old Mother wouldn't be happy if Harry allowed something like that to happen. But more importantly, because that air-head was the person standing closest to a furious snake, who was just waiting to strike.

With everyone's attention now on a prone form of Defence Instructor, who was groaning slightly near the stage, Harry made few slow steps, getting nearer to the snake, slowly squatted down, and slid his hand out, placing it on the ground, only couple of feet from the snake. There was a massive intake of breath when everyone noticed what he did, but after that there was a complete silence. Everyone watched transfixed as the snake which was trashing around moments before, locked its eyes with Harry's, and after staring for a moment, completely motionless, it slithered close distance to Harry's hand. After one last check, when it flicked its tongue to taste the air, it slithered along Harry's arm, ending coiled around it, with its head on Harry's neck. Only then did Harry stand up, and just started walking to the doors of Great Hall, like nothing had happened.

"Potter! What are you doing with that snake?" shouted Snape, first person to recover, when Harry was about to exit.

"I'm taking it on the grounds, somewhere near the forest. I'll let it loose so it can breath some fresh air, eat something or... do whatever snakes do." he answered with a shrug.

"Letting dangerous animal loose on school grounds?" Snape went on, his sneer in full force. "For endangering students..." he begun.

"Dangerous animal?" Harry asked, looking first straight at Snape, then on snake who appeared to be asleep, still coiled around him, then again on Potions Professor. "Really?" he asked sarcastically. "From what I heard, there are worse things inside the FORBIDDEN Forest. And as for endangering students, why don't you ask person who brought it right in the middle of this group?" he finished, looking at Malfoy.

When Snape's only response was to grit his teeth, Harry shrugged and left the Great Hall, Neville and Hermione running behind him.

"Aren't you nervous walking like that?" asked Hermione, staring warily at the snake, who from time to time was flicking it's tongue out.

"No, not really. If he would like to hurt me, he probably already would do that."

That didn't calm her.

"Look, what would you do if you would suddenly find yourself surrounded by unknown figures, then blasted couple of feet in the air? Of course he was angry, everyone would instinctively defend them self in that kind of situation. He just wanted to get out, and found me non-threatening enough to give him a lift." 'Having basilisk scent all over you certainly helped with that.' he thought to himself.

They walked across school ground in a comfortable silence, Harry not even asking if they would like to pet the snake, seeing their frightened stares. When they were near Hagrids cabin, Harry placed the snake on the ground, hissing silently that if it found some time, there was a really old snake in the castle, who would appriecieate some company, before they went back to the castle.

* * *

Late into the night, it would appear that Harry Potter was sleeping, but in fact he was visiting Salazar in his new home. As for founder of Hogwarts, home where he was living wasn't much. It looked like something similar to Hagrids cabin in a middle of a moor, that formed near the city when Slytherin settled in. Harry already hear the story that it was exact replica of the one Salazar grew in. "No place like home" he kept repeating.

"So, what is troubling you?" Slytherin asked when they were sitting at the table.

"Well, it was bugging me for some time, but today's duel reminded me. Why are all incantations in Latin?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say they're all in Latin." responded Salazar with slight chuckle. "But if you ask why there are incantations at all, it's because wands were designed that way. I don't really know that much about wand-making, but there is serious arithmetic behind them. Incantation is just stating your will, waving pattern is pointing your intent, like intended area or object, and there is just power behind the spell. At first in different countries, there were different incantations, depending on language in use. But as you now only Latin is in use, I would have to guess that there is some standard way to build wands, used everywhere, or just that most scrolls were written in Latin, so anybody wanting to learn, would have to use those."

"And what about wordless casting?"

"You can do it so it's possible. With wands... I don't really know how good it is to put more power and more concentration without that help from speaking out loud. More likely is that people enchant their things to do "default" action when with given command like single flick of a wand. Things like self washing pots, or self stirring cauldrons..."

"Enchanting?" Harry asked, interested in new subject.

"Maybe some other time, as it seems you're quite tired." said Salazar with a smile.

Harry didn't even had time to respond to that, before everything darkened, in the end going pitch black, as Harry finaly fell asleep.

* * *

AN. Sorry for messy writing, but sometimes, ideas just don't want to stick to the page.


	25. Luna Lovegood and strangest Elephant eve

This is getting more and more boring, so this time I won't say that I'm not the owner of Harry Potter and it belongs to J. K. Rowling... Damn...

* * *

After that night, there were only couple of days before the End of Term. Harry again was one of those staying at Hogwarts over Christmas. He had too much work to do to be going anywhere, and essays that teachers assigned were only the start of it.

On the last day before most of the students went home, Harry was returning from library alone, Hermione and Neville busy with packing, when he noticed strangest Christmas decorations. From walls and ceiling of the corridor he was walking in, there were hanging all types of clothes, from shoes, through cloaks, shirts and skirts, ending with accessories like scarf's.

As peculiar that was, when he rounded the corner, there was something more intriguing. Rest of the corridor was decorated in similar fashion, but at the end of it, there was standing a little blond girl from Ravenclaw as her robes stated, staring with unblinking eyes at a pair of shoes hanging from the ceiling. Her wand was stuck behind her ear, as she didn't even attempt to levitate or otherwise move the things that Harry guessed were hers, hanging far beyond her reach. Next to her there could be seen couple of other girls, standing in a tight bunch and not even suppressing snorts of giggles at the lone girls trouble. Then the girl blinked, and moved her gaze right... past Harry?

Harry turned, following her gaze, and noticed Magie standing behind him. He once again looked at the girl, who now had her head tilted to one side, but still watching Magie with her unblinking, dreamy eyes. Harry once more looked at Magie, slightly shook his head, after which she vanished. When she was gone, the blonde girl blinked once more, straightened her head, and returned to just staring at the pair of shoes hanging from the ceiling.

"What? You noticed one of those Nargle's you keep..." Harry could make out from girls who were now laughing fully, before...

'She's a natural. Rowena would like her.'

Harry turned to the part of the corridor he came from, and there, leaning against the corner, out of sight of the young girl, stood Slytherin.

'What do you mean?' Harry asked switching his gaze to the girl.

'Like I told you, Rowena was connected to the wind. That it itself isn't quite peculiar, unless you mention that she was thinking like wind blows.' at Harry's confused look, Salazar continued. 'Air is everywhere, so wind can come from any direction. Most people have linear type of thinking. Even for most wizards of my time it was enough to find one connection that they needed to do a spell. Rowena on the other hand could instantly make connections to multiple possibilities from one starting point. She was best at research because when we had to try multiple times, changing approach until we got something right, she seemed to... juggle magic. She started doing something, and if it went wrong even so slightly, she just changed direction, just like with wind, and could steer to a desired ending. That's what I mean when I called that blond girl natural. Rowena was a natural at noticing spells, energy or other things. To her it was just like a breeze on her skin.'

'That would explain how she instantly noticed Magie. But why is she...' Harry left it hanging, watching the girl who was still just standing there.

'I've seen it only once in my entire life.' Salazar begun, with sadness in his eyes. 'Magical education, even in my times, started at certain stage of life. I don't know how they ended with eleven years old, but at first it was the time when child stopped daydreaming and asking for bedtimes stories, and started to ponder the world and ask for explanations. While most young wizards and witches went through that change relatively smoothly, slowly exchanging fairytale with what adults taught them, or even their own observations, there could happen something that would interrupt that process. The one case I saw, was a little child who lost its way in a forest. It returned after nearly two months, and after being asked what happened, it told how things that couldn't possibly exist helped it to survive by bringing food, creating shelter and such. After that, the child couldn't be persuaded that those things were representations of magic. There was no way to prove that they didn't exist, because the child would come up with a power those creations had, that would unable us catching or even touching them.' Salazar finished with a tired shake of his head.

'To say simply. While you make distinction between what is real, and what only you can see, the blond girl standing there can't do that. She sees those two worlds as one, and can't tell one from other, because if there is a friction between the two, she would just bend the imaginary one, and her magic would make it true. I think that she can use a wand, like the child from my time could, since she don't acknowledge the connection between her and what her magic created.'

'Wait, then you mean I too could use a wand?' Harry asked in surprise.

'In theory, yes. But only if you stop treating Magie like you do now. You would have to...' Salazar wanted to continue, but was interrupted.

'No, thank you. I was just asking.' Harry said with a smile. 'But what about her?' he asked while pointedly looking at the young Ravenclaw. 'Is there a way to help her?'

'You could always try.' replied Salazar with a slight smile, before vanishing.

Harry stood there a while, pondering the girl and still chuckling group near her, group that still haven't noticed him, having too much fun as it was.

'Magie?' he called softly.

'Hmm?' came a reply, and he noticed her standing in the spot from which Slytherin vanished moments before.

'Sorry about earlier...'

'Nevermind it. I wasn't comfortable in the first place, you know, with her staring at me.' she answered with a smile.

'Could you give me something like...' he started, just to be interrupted again.

Magie just took a stuffed toy from behind her back. It was a slightly over-used plush dog.

'I might have forgot to constantly remind you how wonderful you are.' Harry said with a smile, making her blush slightly.

'Just remember to bring it back!' she mumbled loudly, blushing even deeper, as Harry started walking in the direction of Ravenclaws. Her comment just made him grin broadly.

"Hey! You there!" Harry yelled as he got near the end of corridor.

At that, the group of girls stopped everything they were doing, watching with scowls what this might be about. The blond girl just blinked, and switched her attention to him, staring with her dreamy eyes.

"I heard, you knew a thing or two about unknown species. My friend caught this one, and I was wondering if you knew what it was." Harry said, holding the toy-dog right in front of her.

"OH! You have Brown-bellied Woofminster. They're very rare." the girl exclaimed.

"Well, thanks for clearing that one out. I'm sorry that I can't leave it with you, but it's very important to my friend, and I said I would bring it right back."

"Shame. Daddy would like a picture or two for Quibbler. Have you read it before?"

"No, I haven't. I'm Harry by the way." he said, while extending his hand.

"Yes I know. I'm Luna."

They kept talking like that, with Luna petting the toy, both paying no attention to the group standing slightly to the side.

Girls in that group on the other hand were staring dumbfound as Harry Potter, THE Harry Potter, was talking with Luna Lovegood of all people, talking about something he was holding, but they couldn't see. Each and every one of them were wondering, but wouldn't admit it, if there wasn't something wrong with their eyes. Too confused to even think, the girls left.

"You want some help with those?" Harry asked at one point, looking at the things still hanging all around the corridor.

"Well... If you could." Luna replied with a shrug.

'Magie, go fish!' Harry said, referring to the card game.

Magie just rolled her eyes, but already had a fishing pole, and even a fishing hat. She dismissed the fact that Luna was again staring at her, when she swung hear pole and sent the hook flying towards nearest thing. But instead of stopping at that, the hook flew further, through other things, even those hanging around the corner of the corridor. When Magie at last felt that she "caught" everything, she rolled the line back, making all the thing flying towards her.

"Did you know that you have around you a large bunch of..." Luna started.

"Luna, maybe we will talk about it after the break? You still need to pack, and I would rather read up on Quibbler than always ask you to explain everything."

"OK." she answered simply, gathered her things and went along her way.

'Now for Salazar to teach me enchanting.' Harry thought, cogs in his head turning.

* * *

With few students in the castle, and his school-work done in the early days of the break, Harry had lots of time to practice.

Enchanting wasn't anything like Harry thought it would be. There was no complex things to do, or exhausting yourself while feeding the energy for the enchantment to hold. It was once again changing your perception on things. Wand-less enchantment wasn't about making inanimate object act in any kind of way. It was opposite. Treating said object like it was already alive, merely in a deep sleep, staying motionless. Harry just had to imagine what that particular object would act like when it was awake, if it would bounce around, sing, or anything else. And just like in any previous situation, where his determined mind wend, magic followed.

The only problem was to be precise, while not overcomplicating. Object that would be imprecise, would act in random ways, not really serving its purpose. That which had too many "commands" to follow, wouldn't do anything at all if it was placed in situation with two different orders to do at one time.

The trick was just like with the Sorting Hat. To give the object a personality of sorts. While beginners like Harry couldn't make anything as aforementioned Hat, he could manage a basic sort of "intelligence". While not smartest, it was enough for enchanted things to follow its given purpose on its own, without any additional help.

As for the power to sustain enchantment, it again was stupidly simple. Wand magic spells had to rely on power from the caster, or energy in ward stones, for the enchantment to continue. On the other hand energy in wandless magic mingled with energy already in the surrounding area, so as long as there was ambient magic, it could sustain itself quite nicely. At one point Harry wondered, if instead of enchanting, it was putting a little of real life in inanimate objects.

Gathering all those small things up, enchanting wasn't that hard at all. More than tricky at most. But with whole Christmas alone, Harry managed to do what he had in mind.

* * *

It was first feast after everyone got back, with everyone swapping stories of their Christmas. Everyone, except a single blond girl sitting at Ravenclaw table, picking slowly at her food.

Since there was high spirit, no one noticed a white blur flying into the Great Hall, making one round over the Ravenclaw table, and shooting out of just as quickly. All that was left in its wake, was a box in Christmas wrapping, suspended on a small parachute, gently floating in the air. As it begun to drop lower and lower, everyone started to pay attention to it. Everyone, except a single blond girl sitting at Ravenclaw table, picking slowly at her food.

The said girl blinked when the box finally settled right in front of her. Not paying any attention that almost everyone was looking in her direction, she reached out, and untied a bow on top of the box. As soon as she did that, the box fell apart, revealing strangest elephant-looking toy ever. There was a sign behind it saying "I'm sorry for being late." and another note, which it seemingly held with its trunk.

Luna reached and took the note, and jumped slightly when the creature sneezed, locked its eyes with hers, before doing couple of laps around her plate, and lying down to sleep in the place it started out from. The note said:

_I know that it isn't the one you saw earlier, or even the real thing, and I'm sorry about that. But this one is entirely yours and no one will be able to take it away from you._

Everyone in the Great Hall looked at one another, not understanding what was happening. But Luna just turned, and looked across the confusion, straight at Harry, with disturbingly clear gaze and a slight smile playing on her lips.

* * *

At first Harry wasn't sure if he did everything right, but that was short lived, as some angry muttering could be heard from some Ravenclaws.

What Harry essentially did, was to make the strange elephant hide from everyone who meant it harm. Just like children playing hide and seek, it would cover its eyes when it would like to hide, but unlike with children, it actually couldn't be seen by the person it was hiding from.

So, while some Ravenclaws were growing more and more frustrated, being unable to take from Luna something she cared about, others were looking at them more strangely, while they were cursing about an object sitting right in front of them.

Returning to his contemplations about enchanting vs life giving, Harry had to smile at the idea that Luna now owned one and only "living" Shy-Flapping Sneezingle.


	26. Idle chit chat

Disclaimer: Even though I live with my family, I don't think J. K. Rowling is still living with her parents...

* * *

AN. In response to people calling my writing messy, I looked for help. FinnickLover4ever was good enough to lend a hand. If my writing won't improve over next couple of chapters, don't think she isn't working hard. It will be just a proof that I'm helpless.

* * *

It was only couple of days later that Hogwarts returned to its normal course, which was why Harry was going to library. He was meeting there with Neville and Hermione, and their study schedule seemed to just be working over-hours to keep up with vast amount of work teachers threw at them after the holidays.

Harry headed straight for their usual table to leave his things, when he rounded a row of books just to notice that someone was already sitting there. And it was none other than Ron Weasley. He sat slumped over a book, leaning heavily on the table and holding his head in his hands. He looked like he was going to pull his hair, or just stopped doing that.

"Hello." Harry said cautiously, whilst stepping closer.

Ron jumped slightly and looked around to find whoever had spoken to him. After noticing it was only Harry, he mumbled a tired reply.

"Something I can do for you?" he asked sleepily after closing his book and rubbing his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, but it was probably doing the unusual task of reading that made him tired.

"I just wanted to ask how long you're going to study here. We usually use this table."

Ron looked around to who "we" meant, and scowled when he noticed a petite blonde staring at them with unblinking eyes.

"She's with you?" he asked with displeasure all over his flustered face.

Harry turned and saw that new addition to their study group arrived.

"Yes," he answered simply.

"But why?" Ron asked, still scowling.

When Harry turned his attention to the read-headed boy again, and saw his disapproval, he had to smile.

"Because she's immensely cute. I think about making her a Loser's Club's mascot..." Harry said, with a thoughtful look on his face. It was just too fun to mess with the youngest Weasley.

"Mascot? What club?" Ron gapped up at him, whilst exchanging glances between him and the blonde girl.

"Hmm?" Harry stopped his contemplations, and noticed in what state Ron was. "Oh, you meant Luna. I thought you were talking about Seizie." he said, while looking back at the toy elephant sleeping on top of Luna's head. "And Loser's Club is another story."

"Never mind," replied Ron, his thoughts on Luna's sanity and whatever answer he had to what Harry might have said about her long forgotten. Instead he just stared at Harry, who was still looking in curiosity at the toy elephant.

"You're a lot more different than what I thought you would be," Ron finally told him, after a while of contemplation and awkward silence.

"How so?" Harry asked, taking a seat at the table, and waving Luna to do the same. The blonde girl floated over slowly to their table, so he turned his attention back to the freckled boy.

"Well, with all those stories about Boy-Who-Lived, I thought you would be perfect in every sense and striding around school to show it of to everybody," he admitted.

"What? You thought I would pull a Malfoy?" Harry asked with a smile, at which Ron chuckled lightly, but his ears got red, showing that he really thought something similar.

"But like I said, you aren't like that. You study all the time. You're in the Gryffindor tower only when you're sleeping or grabbing additional books. At first I thought that it would be awesome to get on the team in the first year, like you did. But after I saw that regardless of your age, Wood is making you go as hard, or even harder than others, and how tired you are after every training, I don't think I could make it. You're working so much that it isn't fun any more." he stopped, heaving a sigh. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but the other boy carried on.

"I, on the other hand, was busy just having fun all year, and now..." Ron commented, and his sentence faded to just another awkward silence. He looked tiredly again at the book that was still laying in front of him, quietly taunting both of them that they had to study.

"Who told you that work can't be fun?" Harry questioned, his brow furrowed.

Ron blinked twice before he answered, "But work is work, it isn't meant to be fun. It's just a general rule in life."

Harry just chuckled. "Then what about your brothers?"

Ron blinked again, like a doe faced with glowing headlights. "What about them?"

"I've heard that one is a Curse-breaker, and another is a Dragon-tamer. Muggle's think that those are things you only read in books, something interesting they only dream about doing. Tomb-riding or handling Dragons. And yet, you have brothers doing it all the time. Are they sometimes complaining how hard it is? I wouldn't be surprised if the did. But I bet that they could sit and have an never-ending streak of telling stories about something fun or interesting that happened while they were working." Ron's eyes widened as that was exactly what happened only couple of days earlier when whole family gathered for Christmas. Bill and Charlie telling stories so fantastic that their mother had to yell at them to go to bed, because they haven't noticed how late it was.

"Even look at the twins." Harry chuckled, bringing Ron out of his thoughts. "Even though everyone know they are behind every major prank, teachers can't do anything because there is no evidence that they've done anything. You think preparing things on such a large scale without getting caught is easy? Of course it isn't. And the more fun it is when prank works perfectly, first time." Harry thought for a moment, then added, "I also think that teachers don't mind since their pranks show that they're at least studying a bit." Harry managed to amaze Ron the second time in just a five minute time span.

"What? Don't tell me you haven't noticed that their pranks are usually just a twist on material they're going through in class." He said, bewildered at the Weasley's silence.

Ron got a horrified look on his face. To him, thought of Twins doing homework in any way was just so wrong and revolting. Harry laughed to himself, while thinking about how much fun he had while learning. Of course, just a thought of his Mentor, a thousand year old basilisk, and "imaginary" friends, was enough to bring a smile to his face. He shook his head, and saw Ron sitting there, thinking hard.

"So, what do you like to do?"

"I like Quidditch," Ron said immediately, without even pausing to think about his answer.

"I haven't seen you in the try-outs," Harry wondered. Even if Wood was happy with the current squad, he always checked for new talents, and idea of a whole reserve team from last year allowed more spots.

"Yeah, that," he grumbled. "Because I was having fun all last year I barely passed any of my tests, and this time Mum said that I won't get anywhere near my broom if my grades don't improve."

Harry now understood from where Ron had that idea that work couldn't have anything in common with fun. It seemed that fun was reward for work well done as far as Mrs. Weasley was concerned.

"So, do you like anything else? Potions or something?"

Ron opened his mouth, just to close it again. He stared at Harry for couple of seconds and scowled. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"I saw you playing chess in common room a lot." he commented, rising his eyebrows just a little bit.

"Ahem. That's, er, that's just something to pass the time." Ron replied, not looking Harry directly in his piercing green eyes.

"I also heard that no one was able to beat you so far."

"Yeah... so? Doesn't mean I'm that good. Have you seen the others play? It's like watching a dragon trying to ice- skate, I swear."

Harry shook his head at the dragon comment. He had to smile at the thought that he started talking to others just like Slytherin had him solve problems.

"You know how people say Twins only fool around. But would you say they're good at it?"

"Sure. Fred and George are best at fooling around." Ron smiled at the memories of some pranks they made, and grimaced while remembering some fun at his expense. "But what about it?"

"How much do you think Zonko's would pay for their ideas?"

That was enough for Ron to understand what Harry was talking about. "But there is no job in playing chess." he said with a frown.

"Well, I don't think there is in Magical community. But in muggle world there are chess tournaments. I don't know exact exchange rate, but lets say that first place is something like..." Harry did a quick calculation, as to not overdo-it. "Four thousand galleons."

Ron's jaw hit the floor the exact moment he heard that.

"FOUR THOUSAND!" he exclaimed, bringing Madam Pince's fierce glare and venomous "Shh!" on them.

"Four thousand galleons for playing chess?" Ron whispered again, astonished, after they ducked their heads out of view of the librarian.

"Well, only in biggest tournaments held only once a year, but yeah. Beside that, there are smaller ones throughout the year."

"Where do you get that kind of money from?" Ron asked, still not believing.

"Well, I think that part is from people entering, and part is from tickets sold." Harry replied, not really knowing how chess tournaments worked.

"Wait, you tell me people come to see someone play chess?"

"You wouldn't believe what people want to watch. Here there's only Quidditch, but in muggle world there is something called Olympics. There are many individual competitions like swimming, jumping, running..."

"Wait, you say that people buy tickets to watch someone run around? And you get money for it?"

Harry chuckled. "Well you can think it's not that hard, but try jumping above 2 meters in the air... without any magic." he remember to add. "And I don't think people watch Olympics to watch other people "just" running around. It is about people running, swimming or doing anything else really well. I think there is a sort of fetish around the world, concerning doing everything perfect. Not only in sports but in every part of life. If someone does something extremely well, he is sure to be acknowledged." Harry said, not wanting to explain some of the Guinness World Records to a magical person.

"So, getting back to chess." Ron said impatiently, steering conversation to the original topic, because he was getting confused by the muggle world. "You think I should concentrate only on playing?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. You know, it was a muggle author by the name of Robert A. Heinlein who I believe put it best. He said 'A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyse a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, and lastly die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.'. Like I said before, there is a sort of fetish with doing something perfectly. If you do that, you end up doing only one thing repeatedly, and if that don't work in life, you end up with nothing. The only way you could manage on doing one thing, is if you were best in the world. Like you said you play chess to pass the time. But what if you meet someone who you couldn't win against? Would you just say "I won't play with you any more because it's no fun.". Or would you work harder, and play more with that person until you beat him?"

"So we're back to working hard on it?" Ron groaned, slumping back in his seat with a defeated look on his freckled face.

"Well, chess is just an example, but when you're having fun with what you do, you wont even notice the work you've done."

"Why are you constantly saying that work is fun?" A red eyebrow was raised in disbelief.

"Anything can be fun. Sure it will stay hard work if you want it to be hard, but there is always something you can do to add that fun part into it. And if something you're working on, or learning, or just doing, in the end won't be useful, instead of ending with nothing, you at least have fun time behind of you. And you have to admit that you can't constantly run away from work. Because... Do you know how you call constant work and striving to be better than you are now?"

"No. What do you call that?"

"Life," Harry answered with a smile. Ron just shook his head.

"I changed my mind. You're not just a lot more different than I expected; you're nothing like I thought you would be."

Before any of them could add anything else, there was sound of footsteps coming their way.

"Sorry we're late, there was..." Hermione begun but stopped abruptly, and took the scene before her, with Neville nearly running into her.

At their usual study table, there was Harry, talking with Ron Weasley. Slightly to the side of them, Luna Lovegood was sitting with her head on the table and her elephant under her arm, having fallen asleep while half listening to their conversation.

"Hi." she said in the end.

"Hi." Ron replied, slightly uncomfortable.

Luckily Harry took over, breaking the awkward silence that followed, for the third time that day.

"Ron is having some trouble with his homework. Do you mind if he joins our study group?" Harry asked the new arrivals, and when Hermione looked at him, he just winked.

"No, of course not." she said with a smile, placed her things in a seat between Harry and Luna, and went with Neville to gather the other countless books to prepare for their study time. Ron just nodded at Harry in thanks, while the raven-haired-boy was waking the blonde girl, who mumbled something about Nargles in her sleep.

After that, they went to work, explaining how they spent their time and what they were working on to both Luna and Ron. From the start Ron instinctively knew that no one would do his homework for him. He would actually have to really try and work this year.

* * *

A/N. I don't know how Chess tournaments work, just looked random prize from first page I found on Google. Nor have I read any work by Robert A. Heinlein (at least I don't think I had). It was a quote I had in my notes. You have to get used to my picking snippets of information and twisting it to my liking. Sorry.

As for Ron. In canon from the start he had Hermione standing over him, and as much he didn't liked that, he at least studied. I gave him a year and a half on his own. He wouldn't have dropped out in that time, since Crabbe and Goyle passed (though I think their family gold have something to do with their education) but "barely passed" I think is enough to set Molly on alarm.


	27. There is nothing like a Valentine's day

I'm running out of ideas... Erm... Since I'm running out of ideas I can't possibly be J. K. Rowling since she's too creative to find herself in that kind of situation. Is that enough? Please tell me that's enough...

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AN. I've got myself a chameleon Beta. Now her user-name is Enjoyeverymoment, and since she's so good at hiding, keep guessing what she changed...

* * *

Working on regular basis was something Ron wasn't familiar with. As far as chores went, with seven siblings in the family there wasn't much to do, even when everyone except his younger sister went to school as their parents took care of tasks that were left undone. Magic didn't really help with making your life harder.

But as Harry had repeatedly told him, work could be fun. As for a study group, it was too bizarre to be tiring. Hermione was the main researcher of the group. She could read through all reading material in a flash, and prepare a mini-lecture about current topic a second later. Neville was the one asking all of the obvious questions. They didn't disturb their learning, in fact helped them to hammer into their heads basics of new magical theory, or draw connections to the ones they previously learned. Harry would take the middle ground between hard to understand book language, and over simplified answers. He was best at taking a problem, and showing that nothing was just a theory, but, by pointing to practical applications, he gave you something you could touch, see, or just simply wrap your mind around, in place of usual book jargon. When they finished, they had a frame for simple essay, supported by actual theory which all of them understood, with lots of examples to back it up. All that was left, was to fill in the words, and each of them ended with their own, unique, rendition of the above. As schematic as it sounds, there were too many funny situations to call it a routine way of studying.

The very first evening Ron joined the group, they were discussing Bubble-producing spell, which Professor Flitwick used the year before to decorate Christmas trees. While results were quite impressive, it was quite simple, and a perfect example to start theory of spells that would lead up to Bubble-head charm. Neville was stuck, not understanding theory allowing caster to change the colour of the bubbles. Hermione tried, and tried again to explain rainbows or crystals, and that magic in the bubble just allowed it to stay in one particular colour, instead of couple swimming on its surface. Of course, that just made Neville ask more about muggle physics, and Hermione explaining more things unrelated to magic, until Harry stepped in.

"Just think about different coloured balloons. If you blow it bigger, the colour is fainter. Here you just twirl your wand, exact shade is something you have to practice I think. And to choose the colour, you have this jab at the end." he said pointing to the wand movement pattern sketched in the book, and told about a circle muggles used to arrange colours in place of the previous circular wand movement.

Look of dawning realisation on Neville's face and Hermione's exasperated "Couldn't you have said that five minutes ago?" and frustrated expression were priceless. Adding Luna Lovegood to the equation just made it a whole more comical. And even though Ron was still sure he would never understand her, he was happy that she was there. He had a lot of things from first year to re-learn, which he probably wouldn't pay attention to if he was left to work on it alone.

Just sitting there and listening to Hermione, Harry and Neville working, made Ron understand, or at least pay attention, more than he had to any lecture. So, yes, he thought at the end of that particular session. Work can be at least a bit entertaining, even in the most unexpected ways...

* * *

It seemed that Gilderoy Lockhart wasn't done with trying to again built up his reputation in Hogwarts. Oh no, he was far from finished. This time though, he chose an approach as far from violence as he could, as bruising from Duelling club prevented him from looking good. Or to be exact, striking a pose whenever he wanted to without wincing. His aim this time was Love, and what better day for it than Valentine's Day. In his over-zealous strive to further his cause, he didn't quite notice what the grumpy dwarfs he had dressed in cupids "uniforms" actually looked like. Everyone else in the school knew at first glance that they looked more grotesque than amorous, and didn't quite help Lockhart to achieve his goal

Nearly every student shook their head at the whole notion, and those who at first were thrilled by a possibility of Valentine Cards, changed their mind when they saw dwarfs walking around in their costumes. They always seemed to be muttering something about "that dim-witted pansy boy", while pulling white sheets of their uniform out of their ass. Not quite so romantic of a sight, and not one you would like your love interest see as the messenger of your valentine.

In the end, there weren't many cards sent that day, with dwarfs moping around the castle, growling at whoever looked in their direction, thus ending ideas of a delivery request before they even formed in the possible sender's head. It would probably be "none cards sent that day", if not for Harry thinking of a perfect way to use such a jolly bunch of messengers. Well, perfect for the students at least...

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was in a middle of lecture, when door to her class burst open to reveal one of "cupids" Gilderoy brought to the castle. Never a person to be interrupted, and especially by someone now walking to the front of the class, she narrowed her eyes at the dwarf, her lips getting so thin, that they were nearly non-existent.

"Can I help you?" she asked curtly.

"I have a singing valentine for Professor McGonagall." the little man said.

Minerva, closed her eyes, shook her head, and after she noticed that the creature in front of her haven't disappeared, she heaved a deep sigh.

"All right. Let me hear it," she said in a defeated voice, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Cupid" nodded and started to sing.

"Transfiguration Mistress, Madam of Change

You won't alter my mind, don't think it strange

No incantations will keep me away, even if you shout or howl

Or just charm your face into permanent scowl,"

The dwarf sang with a hesitant glance at the Professor at every new line.

If their costumes were out of place, their singing voice could could only follow the pattern. It wasn't everyday that you were serenaded with a voice fitting a sobering drunk, breaking every second note. When the song was half way through, Minverva scowled, just for her eyes to widen at the last line.

"Is that all?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

Dwarf grumbled, nodded, and made his way back to the door. She just shook her head again, turning to her notes, presumably to check where she was interrupted. She was, however, hiding a slight smile that was tugging at the corner of her lips, not listening to the snickers from the students in her Transfiguration class.

* * *

In another part of the castle, similar encounter took place, this time with Professor Sprout as the recipient of a singing valentine. Dwarf delivering the message put an extra effort in his performance, since as he looked at the woman, she could easily throw him out of the open window if she didn't like it. And plus, some of those plants looked ready to eat him alive. He cleared his throat and begun.

"Oh Flower Lady, grow me a plant

Take care of it, don't yell or rant

Be gentle with it, make it beautiful, make it glow

Use your skills so our plant named love will grow."

After dwarf finished, he looked uncertainly at the woman standing in front of him, not knowing if he should try to escape or take cover. Finally Professor Sprout blinked owlishly, an started to giggle. The fit of giggles that followed went on long after the dwarf made its way to the castle, and far away from the hysterical woman.

* * *

Of course not everyone that received the singing valentine, took it so well. Taking for instance Severus Snape. He was definitely not having a good day. In fact, he wasn't having a good year if you asked him and he was so restrained as to answer you truthfully instead of biting your head off, which he looked close to on numerous occasions.

It all started the previous year with the Potter brat. He came into Potion's Master's dominion all jolly and smiling, taunting him from the very first minute. Oh how he wanted to wipe that pleased smile from that wimp's face. He tried, and tried... and in the end Potter ended on top of it. That impudent child probably could do anything he wanted, and everyone would buy it. Fame-hungry self-centred manipulating-others-pity-so-he-can-do-whatever-he-want-to fiend. Just as arrogant as his father.

But this year Potter whelp was the least of his problems. Every other dunderhead in the school learned to imitate oh-so-great Boy-who-lived. Now he had classes filled with students who were... respectful. Bah! Just thinking about it made him cringe, and if he even tried to speak the words he would immediately gag. He couldn't possibly say a word about their misbehaviour, since they were behaving. He had to actually teach classes full of students following his every move.

And now that caricature of a cupid was in his class and refused to leave before it delivered its valentine. Potions Master's hand was inching for his wand when he remembered that he was still in a class full of students, also known as - possible witnesses. Maybe if he memory-charmed everyone... To much work. Or it could be solved with one well placed area-affecting curse... But what to do with the bodies.

"Get on with it!" Snape growled in the end. The cupid eyed Professor in front of him suspiciously, but sung eventually:

"Potions Master, you're best one to fix a drink

I want to shimmy with you, more and more as I think

I don't care about your bat-like shape, or the air of fright

In fact, it's best to get jiggy with it in the middle of the night."

After dwarf finished, he eyed the dark man again, and run as fast as he could on his short legs. The first clue was that muscles near Snape's right eye spasm in a distinctive nervous tick. Second was the fact his wand was only a centimetre away from his hand. The third, and probably most noticeable one, was the noise of teeth being grit on the brink of breaking. Oh no. Severus Snape was definitely not having a good day.

* * *

By the end of the day every teacher in the castle received a singing valentine. Even Headmaster had to listen to his, being tackled to the ground by a dwarf who was waiting, hidden behind one of the statues in front of his office. No one really knew what his valentine sounded like, but for a whole day he was stuck in a cycle of frowning, muttering to himself, and shaking his head.

The worst case of singing valentine, because it was one affecting nearly everyone in the castle, was the one sent to Sybill Trelawney. The dwarf at first was looking around the castle for her, then went for her classroom, but after getting half way up the tower, he was so tired that he thought he will simply wait for her to come down. Since she never left her tower, and the cupid was compelled to deliver the message, he could be heard by everyone while serenading her from underneath her tower. No one really appreciated hearing,

"Oh we can live so happily, just reading the stars

I know it will be wonderful, I have crystal balls."

Especially when they had only just woken up.

The next day, even a person so deluded about reality he was living in as Gilderoy Lockhart was, couldn't miss the venomous glares from sleep deprived students, and irritated teachers. He was starting to think that organising Valentines Day wasn't such a bright idea. Maybe Easter would hold something better in store for him...Now only to find a gigantic bunny.

* * *

AN. In response to people saying my writing isn't so messy. It's not about the final result, but about how I get there, and it's comment from my teachers. First I throw words on paper, blink, and try to put them in order which would resemble the initial thought. So, enjoy the final result, and... just don't come near my room when I'm working because you could get hit with something heavy...


	28. Well, maybe aside from Easter

I don't really care. Sometimes I write just for a laugh. So I can't be prestigious author that J. K. Rowling is. Though, I think I can come up with a pun in a minute or two...

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AN. You might want to thank Enjoyeverymoment for getting your... eyes, on this chapter so fast. I was on a 7 hour writing-spree and suddenly remembered that there is something called food somewhere in the world. Seriously, go and thank her. I mean, like right now. Don't be lazy, it's just two klick's away...

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By now, there was something of a tradition when it came to the Weasley Twin's birthday, and that was the reason why a group of people was hiding in a darkened room near corridor Twins walked at that particular time of the day. There were couple with their ear against the door, couple more deeper in the room shushing anyone who was squirming anxiously. No. That group wasn't hiding in fear of being pranked by the Twins on their birthday, that particular day always highlighted by something special from their repertoire. No, they were the surprise birthday party, though by now everyone should have got used to the idea that you couldn't surprise Twins with one of those.

Suddenly, people by the door whispered that someone is coming, but as the sound got nearer, there was something strange mixed with the footsteps. Squeaking. They didn't know from what it could come from, but there was no denying that there was that steady squeak-squeak-squeaking rhythm reverberating through otherwise empty corridor. Not wanting to spoil the surprise, but still too curious not to look, people by the door opened it just a crack, and saw something not seen before in the castle, which was telling a lot if you remember that it was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Wheelchairs. There were two people in white uniforms pushing wheelchairs through the corridor, but more importantly for people inside the room, two identical redheads sitting in them.

"What's going on?" asked Lee Jordan, person keeping watch by the door thus first to exit the room.

Harry and Neville, dressed in their white uniforms, stopped and turned. Of course, wheelchairs which they were pushing turned with them, revealing Twins with goofy grins plastered on their faces, just staring off in space. Kind of strange combination as they were sitting in front of a blank piece of wall.

"We're just taking them to the grounds. You know, to let them watch the view and get some fresh air." answered Harry, just as people came streaming out of the room.

"But... what happened?" asked Angelina, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

"Well, we were in infirmary getting something for a cold, and Twins already were there. Madam Pomfrey told us that they usually did something... drastic, like she called it, on their birthday. And to unable them trying this year, they got a dose of really strong calming draught. You see the effects," Harry commented, gesturing towards the Twins with their goofy expressions and hollow eyes.

"But they didn't do anything last year!" exclaimed Alicia, not believing what she was seeing.

"Yeah, but you remember what they did two years ago?" asked someone from the back of the crowd, whom Harry didn't know. Some in the crowd were nodding in acknowledgement.

"Wait, was that the one in the middle of the Great Hall..." someone else begun, not fully knowing which year they were talking about.

"Yes, and those first year Slytherin's just..." another person went on to clarify.

"Stop!" shouted Katie, with nausea written all over her face. She wasn't the only one, as there was a massive round of shudders going through the crowd at the recollection of_..that._

Harry and Neville shrugged, told everyone that they had to get going, and went on whilst everyone continued nodding sadly. When Twins would go back to their room that evening, they would notice that that pity story gave them best haul of presents ever. They would notice it only in the evening, as right now they were too busy working.

Even if Fred and George Weasley's weren't the most ambitious pair in the world, they still liked a little challenge from time to time. That was why they did something special each year at their birthday, to always be sure they're in top shape. Of course, they might have overdid it with _that..._but last year they got too distracted with open season on "Snape hunting" to really prepare anything special for that year.

This year they had certain plans, but after Harry's stunt with valentine card's they had to change their plans on the spot. That's why they asked him to drive a pair of transfigurated dummies around the school, telling him that it was the prank. In fact, it was only a pre-prank prank, as they needed time to stock up and prepare for the main event.

Yes, Weasley Twins certainly did enjoy a challenge from time to time, and even if Harry didn't know about it, he was the main opponent in their little pranking contest. But this time, they were aiming for something really, really... BIG.

* * *

Easter. Time of celebration, a time to come together, a time of joyous and hyper children running around every household and school in the country, or in the world. It's time when little children dream of the Easter bunny coming to give them edible energy and hyperness, and older children dreamt to simply experience that sweet sugar-high again, whilst skipping the bunny part. Yes, despite religious beliefs and grandparent's views, Easter was mainly about...chocolate. It comes in all shapes and sizes, and can be eaten in every meal in some form. In fact, no matter what anyone tries to tell you, it is chocolate that sits on top of every food chain, and Easter is a time where food really matters.

Albus Dumbledore thought that in such a joyous time, there simply could be no major problem which would spoil the day. He was proven wrong just a couple of seconds later when wards started screaming bloody murder over an intrusion on Hogwarts grounds. While normally they would simply notify him of a visitor entering the grounds, every instance of big appearance which was previously unannounced, by default was treated as an attack.

Headmaster of Hogwarts jumped out of his bed, putting his fluffy bunny slippers out of habit, as to avoid coldness of the floor, and ran up to the window. He scanned the grounds and his gaze stopped when it reached the lake. He couldn't make out exactly what it was, but there was something in the water of the lake, struggling to break through the surface. It wasn't simply big. It was gigantic. Also he noticed a small group right in front of the castle gate, marching in a tight formation.

If his school was truly under attack, he was bound to protect it. With that thought of duty, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Grand Sorcerer, Supreme Mugwump, owner of Order of Merlin – First Class, rushed into his dressing room for something more suitable for battle than his nightgown and fluffy bunny slippers with fluffy white tails, secretly made of cotton wool.

* * *

Insanity is said to be doing the same thing over and over again, while expecting different results. Taking into account that wizards weren't most logical type of people, it isn't sure if what Gilderoy Lockhart was doing could still be considered normal. However, where many witches and wizards might have at least stopped to consider their current course of action, he kept going, unwaveringly.

He had this idea to organise a unforgettable event. First Duelling Club, then Valentine's Day, now Easter, and nothing could stop him from achieving his goal. Of course, for his Easter, he had to find a very distinctive bunny. After contacting many Magizoologist's, he came to the conclusion that there wasn't an magical equivalent of bunnies, no matter the scale. Good enough that specialists he was talking with were knowledgeable enough to know that ostrich wasn't "just the thing he needed".

So, on Easter day it was again to dwarfs in costumes, of course, that were again going to be travelling the halls of Hogwarts. Someone in one of many London's costume shop was wondering why anyone would need so many children sized Bugs Bunny suits.

At first, Gilderoy had the thought to make dwarfs bunny-hop around, just to add that little something to their character. That was short lived as he noticed glares the dwarfs were sending his way. It was strange, seeing something which was most commonly labelled as "cute" sending information more along the lines "If you will make me hop, I'll hop on top of you until you die.". His ability to notice those kind of things got better when his delusions of grandeur, changed into more paranoid approach to life, given all the hateful looks he received nowadays. Though, you can't say you're paranoid if there really are people who would like to kill you.

So it was simply marching his bunny-squad to Hogwarts, and again, it didn't go as planned. Right when he was about to enter the battle, dwarf grumbling right behind his back, there was a sound of running water. He stopped, looking around in search of rain or even a strange fountain that sprouted from the castle wall in the middle of the night. Whatever he was looking for, he didn't predict what he saw when he turned around.

There was a gigantic bunny's head peeking from the lake. It was statement how shocked he was that he could think head larger than Hogwarts gates, was simply "peeking" out of the leak. He stood there, dumbfounded, as more and more of the bunny came out of the water, and when it's whole silhouette was visible, there was a small quake accompanying every step the bunny took, stepping only on it's hind-legs, holding an egg in it's front paws. Even if the whole thing was just a charmed balloon, currently missing a big parade, it still had its weight, especially without any gas inside to make it lighter. Knowing that little fact would certainly explain Twins question of "How muggles made those thing fly?".

That low rumbling repeated every time bunny took, reverberated throughout the castle better than any warning horn on the grounds. Anyone walking couple of streets from a discotheque, knew what a decent sub-woofer could do. In response to that, people came streaming out of the castle, the first ones to come out still wearing their pyjamas some with bathrobes on, as they were quick enough to grab them, stopping in shock on the steps of the castle, not even noticing Lockhart's group.

When Harry and his friends came, he took only one glance at the bunny which was now just standing there, swaying with the wind, before he whispered couple of words to Hermione, and going back to the castle with Neville in tow. Bushy haired girl was left with Luna, which wide unblinking eye's were so fitting in this setting, as many others had the same look on their face, and again, couple of words were exchanged between the two.

More people came, pushing those in front forward, as to make place for people straining their necks from the Entrance Hall. But whoever came out, stopped abruptly like he was smacked with a tuna, when he noticed what was waiting outside. Of course, he would be pushed forwards moments later, by another person, just for the events to repeat themselves. Whoever was outside was simply speechless, no matter how long he was staring at the bunny. Of course until...

"It's going to squash us!" exclaimed Luna hiding behind her friend, when wind pushed the bunny forward in a "threatening" way. It almost looked like the bunny was watching the ant sized crowd with its wickedly grinning face.

"There is only one thing we can do now," responded Hermione, patting Luna on the back reassuringly.

"What is it!", "Please, tell us!" exclaimed the Twins. They were all for it, if Harry was right now preparing for a prank of his own.

"We can only run from side to side, looking completely helpless," she answered their pleas with a knowing look, just to start running the next second, Luna right by her side. Of course, seconds later, Twins also gave chase.

It spooked everyone when people started to run, so of course, everyone else started to run away too, with that basic "get to safety" instinct. They didn't even notice that they were following a person who, when getting to certain point, would just switch direction they were running to. Person who said "If you can sit calmly when everyone around you panic, it might be that you simply don't understand the problem." probably didn't knew that it wasn't a great deal of trouble to start random fit of chaos.

And that was what Albus Dumbledore saw when he appeared on the scene in his best battle gear, the combination of colours which could be straight from a bad drugs-infused dream were probably for distraction. He saw the grounds in chaos, panicking students were running about, though had that silly impression that a couple of them were just playing a game of tag. Only after that he really took notice of a gigantic bunny, making the background of the scene.

Looking a little closer, he saw Lockhart and his bunch, forgotten in the middle of confusion.

"Gilderoy," he begun as he approached the man "I understand that fun is important to students, to help them relieve anxiety from hard studying, and I know you try your best, but you have to at least notify other teachers about it. There would be a lot less trouble if we could prepare for all the festivities," the Headmaster said sternly as Lockhart and his small army of mini-bunnies turned to face him.

"Headmaster... I...I mean... This..." Gilderoy stammered, at first not even recognising that someone was talking to him, and later how to explain that it wasn't his fault, all this insanity with people tripping over each other.

"Oh, there is no need to apologise, no harms done." Albus responded with knowing smile "All we need to do is to calm down students. Thought getting rid of it might be a little troublesome." he continued, eyeing the bunny. "But, since you were able to get it here, I don't predict any trouble."

This time, Gilderoy didn't even had any time to start explaining that it wasn't him, because a sound of quick footsteps coming from the castle caught their attention. Whoever wasn't in the horde of students running in random patterns, meaning few teachers who weren't right now checking security in other parts of the castle, watched as person dressed in black run from the castle, greasy hair swaying as he sped to the group, with his cloak billowing behind him with every step he took.

The man stopped at the top of the stairs, striking a pose which made Lockhart jealous, hands on his hips, chin high, eyes cast off to the distance.

"Someone called for help! I came as soon as I could!" the figure exclaimed.

"Mr. Potter?" asked Professor McGonagall, first one to find her voice among the gob-smacked group. There stood Harry Potter, his glassed slipping slightly off of his nose.

Harry broke his pose, tearing his eyes from the horizon to scan the situation, seemingly only now noticing the gigantic bunny overshadowing the castle.

"OH NO! It's Bunny-dzilla!" he shouted in fright. "What to do? What to do?" he kept repeating while furiously scratching his chin. "Quickly Robin, to the Bat-mobile! We need to go to the Bat-cave for more supplies!" he called to the air behind him. At this point, all his shouting caught everyone's attention, and students running a while ago now were rooted to the ground, just as bewildered as the teachers were.

Moments after his call, another figure run out of castle, this ones robes green with accents of silver, though the same greasy hair hanging from his head.

"I don't think we have time for that. The monster can attack any second now." Neville said after he stood side by side with Harry, both of them with fists on their hips, watching the bunny for any suspicious or threatening move.

"You're right, we must fight this horrid beast with what we have." Harry/Batman announced while running in the direction of their enemy, Neville/Robin joining him just a second later.

Group of students that was standing between the castle gates and the bunny split in half, letting them through. Their initial shock gave way to the comedy of the situation, and soon they were howling with laughter, some rolling on the ground, watching as Harry and Neville dressed in their costumes battled the hideous monster that assaulted their school. Of course all that they really did was to punch and kick the rubber toy, with their attack practically bouncing right back at them, doing crazy rolls and dodges to avoid attacks that never came. All this time Bunny-dzilla was just standing there, swaying with the wind, still having that goofy grin all over its face.

"I don't think it's working, Harry... I mean Batman," said Neville, slightly panting from the workout. He kicked the monster again feebly, and his shoe just bounced of the fluffy surface.

"You're right. I think I might need to use my secret weapon." Harry responded, at which his sidekick gasped, covering his mouth with his trembling hands.

"Please, no! Not the Killing blow!" Neville pleaded with horrified look on his face, his words slightly muffled because his hands were still over his face.

"It's the only way." Harry said sadly, shaking his head.

"Take cover! Everyone! Run for your lives!" Neville started shouting, running just as helplessly as everyone were just minutes ago.

Of course that only made everyone stop laughing and pay more attention. Many coming closer to see better, in spite of Neville's shouts. Harry, who was standing right in front of his enemy, closed his eyes in concentration. Seconds later his face begun to change. He would cringe, frown, grimace, everything in between and much more, but when he opened his eyes again, there was a massive intake of breath, as anyone could see exact replica of their own Potions Master's sneer at its prime. Even that hateful look was pitch perfect.

Then, happened something that no one had thought possible. In the exact moment Harry sneered at the bunny, it was blasted away. Of course no one possibly could notice Magie poking the bunny with oversized pin. Harry relaxed, returning his face to normal, while Neville returned to his side. They again struck a pose fitting valiant heroes who just beat their mortal enemy, with said fiend flying off to the distance. Of course, the overall effect was spoiled by that farting noise every balloon did when air was running out of it, provided by Magie.

"Our work is done. Let us make our exit, Robin," Harry called out to Neville after Bunny-dzilla was at last gone.

He threw something on the ground, making a big dust cloud cover him and Neville. Of course, it would be more impressive if they couldn't be seen sneaking to the side of the roughly twenty feet wide smoke screen and coughing slightly. On their way to the castle, they grabbed a fair maiden each, namely Hermione and Luna, with Twins running behind them shouting "Our heroes!" along the way. Everyone who wasn't again howling with laughter, just stood there helplessly. Because seriously, what could be done after you saw THAT.

Safe inside the castle walls, six friends collapsed on the stone-floor, at last letting their own laughter to fill the air. Weasley Twins weren't that ambitious, and they had no problem with acknowledging that Harry won the round... again.

* * *

Just couple weeks later, there was Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff game scheduled, though, everyone was still talking about what happened on Easter, which infuriated the Potions Master to no end. No one wanted to tell him the whole story, but couple of days later braver students would shout "Our hero!" whenever they saw him, or even ask him to sign some Easter postcards. Each encounter annoyed him all on its own, but it was maddening for him to not understand what obviously everyone else knew.

On the game day, it lessened somehow, because everyone was wondering why Lucious Malfoy was attending the game. His story was that he had some Governor board notions to discuss with Dumbledore, and only free moment he could find was during the game. In fact, he was worried what happened to the precious diary his Master left in his care, before thus far, there was nothing that showed that it made it's way to the castle. In fact, it was like it vanished entirely the day it left his care. He prayed for an occasion to investigate, taking opportunity in distracted students, minding only the game, to get some answers. He ended forgetting about that, over the course of the game.

In fact, everyone paid more attention to the game, than they expected they would. As far as Hufflepuffs went for friendship and fair play, competition is competition. For the whole game, every second bludger was sent at Harry, something they learned from Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game. Even as Harry spotted snitch pretty early into the game, all the dodges he made unable him to go straight for it, some of them being really close. In all the game madness and his dodge-frenzy, none of the players probably noticed that one of the bludgers hit Malfoy, rendering him unconscious as he was unable to move out of the way while sitting between two mountains of flesh, also named Crabbe and Goyle.

Harry caught the snitch in the end, urged by the thought that he couldn't last long if he didn't, but when he landed, he hissed, pain coursing through his leg. He checked it quickly, and saw that it was only abrasion from the bludger that grazed his leg. Still, he had to take of his boot and sock as not to aggravate the skin further, now that he was on ground and actually had to use his foot. He stood there, leaning on his broom, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to come and help him with her remedies, when Malfoy senior came on his back.

"Mr. Potter, I will not stand you mocking my family at your every step," he snarled at Harry, his teeth clenched in anger.

"Mocking? Like how?" Harry asked confused, still not knowing that Draco had to be taken to the infirmary, and that's why he had to wait so long for Madam Pomfrey's help.

But, while he asked, he flipped his hands in that distinctive "Could you explain further?" gesture. Unfortunately, it was the hand in which he was holding his sock with, and it sailed through the air, ending on top of Lucius head, and partly covering his right eye. Malfoy senior certainly didn't appreciate the smelly sweat-soaked sock hanging over his face, and so he picked it up using his thumb and forefinger to do so. He turned his head slightly with disgusted look, like what he was holding was nothing less than toxic waste, proceeded to drop the sock to the ground. Chain of events reaching it's end, the sock stopped its fall in the hand of house-elf named Dobby. He had come as soon as he had felt his master's distress, and after appearing raised his hand to snap his fingers and do his job - returning his master to perfect order.

Dobby looked at the sock in his hand, and without even saying a word, vanished with a soft pop, entirely free. Lucius Malfoy, after noticing what just happened, changed his facial expression from disgusted to one fitting a rabid dog who had just...well, had just got attacked with a sock and had his house elf set free by no one but Harry meddling Potter.

"Have I done something wrong?" Harry asked, playing dumb. Somehow, that didn't help soothe Malfoy senior's anger, and only the Headmaster's intervention stopped the string of curses no student should ever hear. Because that was all he could do in a middle of a stadium filled with spectators. Swear profusely.

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AN. Something alike of a crack chapter, mainly the quidditch game, since I had no other idea for freeing Dobby.


	29. An awfully quiet screaming match

"Place your disclaimer here". I'm too tired of telling you time and time again that I don't own Harry Potter to come up with another original way to say it.

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AN. Thanks for this chapter being nearly twice as long than what it was should be directed to Enjoyeverymoment.

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Many in the school were just waiting for another "show", but it wasn't until a week had passed that something of interest happened. It was this long because Draco was forced to stay in infirmary until the slight concussion he acquired from the last encounter with bludger, was treated fully. Then he just couldn't believe what transpired after he was taken to the hospital wing. When at last the message got through, he just had to get some revenge.

That was why he made his way to the Gryffindor table just as soon as he noticed Harry enter the Great Hall for the morning breakfast. He smiled evilly to himself, and sauntered over towards the table where gold and red clad people were sitting.

"You probably are proud of yourself, Scarhead," he begun, standing right behind the raven-haired boy. Everyone in hearing distance stopped to watch the encounter. "I always wondered what Gryffindors did in their free time. Is theft just some kind of hobby of yours? Or is it more house wide?" Draco stared at the boy, met by a few cheers from his own house and a few quiet jeers from others.

As much Gryffindors that heard that wanted to interfere, at this point they knew that Harry could take care of himself. So, they waited for his response. They waited, waited, and waited some more, for a reply that never came. All that Harry did was to eat his breakfast like there was nothing more going on, like his worst enemy wasn't standing behind him, trading insults with a brick wall, as it seemed.

"Not going to respond? Afraid of spilling some trade secrets?" Malfoy probed at him, his sneer leering ever closer.

Again nothing. Harry just sat there munching on his porridge, staring indecisively at the pot of yoghurt on his plate, wondering whether or not we wanted it or the apple sitting beside it. He put down his spoon, and reached for the strawberry yoghurt pot.

"You can't just sit there ignoring me!" Draco said more forcefully.

Harry's response was to slurp his juice. He was simply looking at the cinnamon danish sitting in front of him, which reminded him of a hat Luna had once worn. It had been a good, sunny day, and so Luna broke out her overly large sunglasses with strange contraptions on the sides and her big, danish- looking sun hat. Then the clouds came out and she was forced to put them away.

"Say something you piece of Muggle filth!" Slytherin boy shouted forcefully, his ears shining bright red, reminding some of the spectators of most of the Weasley's hair in some ways. You could almost picture smoke coming out of them.

By now, there was not one person who wouldn't watch this one sided exchange, even with couple of teachers coming to the scene at Draco's last words. But before they could come near enough to interfere, Harry raised his head and noticed that people were staring at him and glancing at... someone behind him? He turned and noticed flustered Malfoy standing there. Harry reached to his ears and took out what looked like cotton balls from them. He shook his head slightly, and was surprised to listen to exactly the same quiet he had when the ear-plugs were secured into his ears. He expected some sort of chatter, but there was none.

"Sorry, I have a room-mate who snores and I forgot to take out my ear-plugs. Is there something I could help you with?" Harry asked pleasantly while placing the cotton in his pocket, hiding the fact that it simply disappeared just moments later.

Malfoy gave an angry shout and lunged with his fists at Harry, in his anger completely forgetting his wand. His punch haven't even made half the way when Twins intercepted him, dragging him by his arms away from Gryffindor table in the middle of howling Great Hall, while Malfoy still made strangling motion with his hands. Harry just sat there, looking confused, which doubled the laughter when people noticed it. With everyone watching the encounter Draco ended stuck in detentions every day for the rest of the year, and losing enough points from Slytherin to make chances for House Cup only a dream.

Rest of the time before the end of the year was spent in relative peace, if not counting the exam frenzy that swept over the students, that Hermione seemed to enjoy a bit too much. But as fun and eventful this particular year was, the Basilisk still residing under the school had a strange feeling that there was another set of trouble just waiting out there to be stumbled upon.

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AN. Another uneventful ending of the year. In cannon most of the events are in last two or three chapters, but since I again killed plot-line at the start of the year, it feels kind of empty here. Let us simply start a new year, and for this one, I already have some ideas laid down.


	30. Slight changes and a dog

I don't have time for disclaimers now. I won't be able to sleep until I get this scene out of my head and on paper. I sometimes would like to be J. K. Rowling, since she already finished her story.

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AN. Thank Enjoyeverymoment, as she spent her time cleaning my sleep-writing while I laid unconscious with keyboard as my pillow.

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First day after Harry returned to Privet Drive was for him quite a shock. Truthfully, he wondered if by now it wasn't some sort of tradition, what with going-postal right before he started Hogwarts, and his relatives going one-eighty on their approach towards him the previous year. This time though, the surprise was that Dudley lost his weight to the point where you could notice it with a naked eye. But let us start at the beginning.

The whole affair started out as continuation of Vernon's and Petunia's efforts to discipline their son. While he was away from home and watchful eye of his parents, there still should be someone at Smelting's to remind him of proper behaviour. This problem didn't last long, as Vernon proposed admitting Dudley into a sports club.

Vernon came up with that idea almost immediately, because in all his years of studying at Smeltings, he couldn't enter any of them. No, not because his physique would unable him to participate in any sport events. It was just because he haven't came from family that was well off. What allowed him to finish his studies without changing schools was stipend that he received for good grades. It wasn't a great secret that Vernon was "just average", so to achieve that, bulk of his time was spent on studying. It ended as a double edged sword, since there was more than just scores employers put pressure on. Without any great out-of-class achievements, or additional areas of interest, Vernon ended as a part-time salesman, again left to make his way up the ladder, with only his ambition to rely on. By now he was Director at Grunnings, but to this day his mind was set on allowing Dudley, and even Harry, a better education and chance for finer life opportunities than he had.

While Vernon was "just average", you could clearly see that Dudley wasn't sharpest tool in the box. Well, that depends how you define "smart". If life came down to "get as much as you can, while doing as little as possible" Dudley would turn out to be a real genius. He might not pay attention to big things, but when it concerned him, he quickly caught to that cause-and-effect part of life. Do a temper tantrum like a five-year-old to get another toy? Sure! Beat someone around to hear that he was awesome? Anytime.

Surprisingly, the same thing made him perform way above average in Boxing Club at Smeltings. While before he could just get what he wanted with a little trick, or just undermine anyone who performed better than him, unable that someone from getting the prize, he switched tactics after one training session. Maybe it would be different with a backyard boxing club made of some "friends", in reality being nothing more than a bully training facility. But in a proper gym, with strict instructors and rules of conduct clearly laid down, any misbehaviour would end up with punishment. After one training Dudley knew that he would have to work hard. If he didn't, he would be forced to work even harder.

One thing that stopped his initial thought of going to his parents, whining about "that awful club" was food, and oh-boy, Dudley loved food in any form. When he was applied for a spot in the club, he was sent to schools doctor who would determine his overall fitness. Doctor immediately said that he should go on a diet, but not one of those "eat-nothing" kind of things. While earlier most things he ate were sweat or deep fried, now he ate food suited for his training schedule, allowing him to build up his muscles in most efficient way. Loosing fat was just a side effect. Switching junk food for one suitable to development, while leaving the same number of calories, haven't shortened his rations. In fact, it evidently made his portions bigger.

Dudley didn't need to be smartest kid to see that being part of Boxing Club wasn't the worst case scenario. He was still regarded as awesome, with that right hook of his, and with his mind set only on results, he had a great chance for a sport scholarship. Even now he wasn't required to be on top of every class, since his results in boxing were just shining through. Somewhere along the way, in the middle of exhausting workouts, it just simply sunk into him that some things were just not done.

That was why Harry was surprised when just a couple of days after he got back, he found himself exchanging punches with Dudley. No, not fighting. Training together, trading tips, with Harry telling about dodging, and Dudley showing how to make every single punch hurt, or at least be meaningful. Harry had to admit that it was fun. Well, it was, until one particular day.

* * *

Some time in July while Harry was doing the dishes, there was a call on the phone. He couldn't hear clearly what Petunia was telling the person on the other end of the line, but from those quick glances in his direction, and overall body language of his aunt, there was one thing Harry was sure off. He wasn't going to like it.

When the conversation ended, Petunia hung up the phone, rather too carefully, and made her way to the kitchen.

"Harry, could I have a word with you?" she asked, her fingers twitching nervously as she carefully peeled away the dull pink nail varnish.

"Sure," he answered while drying the last plate.

"Marge just called to let us know she will in fact spend a week here."

Ah, so that was it. The infamous aunt Marge was coming. Harry remembered her, or rather her favourite dog, Ripper, rather too vividly. Having a furious bulldog munch on your leg is one of those things you don't really forget. It was his luck that by that time he knew he shouldn't pull it out of dogs jaws, instead push it as far as he could down it's throat. Of course, it was entirely his fault that Ripper choked on his leg. But still, being locked in his cupboard and having shallow teeth marks was way better than having part of his leg amputated in drastic manner.

"The thing is," his aunt continued, bringing him from his thoughts. "We still haven't explained to her some things, and she still think that you attend St. Brutus'. We hoped to take it over time, with little steps, but now..." She looked around, anywhere but into Harry's eyes, not finishing her sentance.

"I will have to act like someone who really would attend St. Brutus', and only later you will be able to tell her that I'm getting better," Harry finished for her, getting only an embarrassed nod in return. "Okay," he answered simply.

"Wait, you're not angry about that?" asked his wide eyed aunt. She stared at him, her nail varnish forgotten.

"No, not really."

"But, why? She will think that..."

"For why I'm not angry. It's because it simply isn't true, and there is no point in fighting every single stupid thing people might make up. And if world would be truly made of what people think, there would be no place for courtrooms and trials, everyone would just make judgement based on what they think to be true. And besides, it will probably be more bothersome for you than me, having to coexist with someone like that."

Petunia's eyes got even wider as she sat heavily at the dinner table considering what they got them-self into.

Time passed quickly, with Harry dismissing whatever party Dursley wanted to prepare for his birthday some time before Marge's arrival. He simply asked for them to sign permission form allowing him to visit Hogsmade. Aside from that, Harry didn't even made too much preparations for his performance.

* * *

It isn't hard to act like a deranged person. Probably everyone heard the saying "It's the quiet ones you should keep and eye on". It's because angry people are generally split in two distinctive groups. Introverts and extroverts.

To give you an example, lets take a situation from everyday life. Imagine a person screaming at a cashier in a shop, simply because he gave that person wrong amount of change. That is an Extrovert. That type of person have short temper and is angry about almost anything, which is immediately noticeable by their loud shouts. Annoying but relatively harmless, because if that person isn't prone to spontaneous acts of violence, they should settle down after a short shouting-fit.

Cashier on the other hand is good example of an Introvert. He sits in his place, quietly doing his job and being polite, no matter how hard people shout at him, or how stupid the thing they rant about is. He goes through that every single day, until such a point that he have enough and comes to his job with a semi-automatic machine-gun and kills everyone he kind find in the shop. That's where you get "watch the silent one's" quote from.

All those small ticks or afflictions that people dismiss with simple "It'll go away" or "I'm too busy to go to the doctor" can really be their nervous system screeching something along the lines "Do something about this stress ass-hole, or I will make you blackout and you'll really regret it when you wake up."

No, it isn't hard at all to play a deranged person. All Harry had to do was to sit there quietly, with completely blank face, and from time to time do small things that would get noticed over time. Nervous tick here or there, that crazed look or insane glint in his eye which would vanish the next second, or his favourite combination, narrowing his eyes all of a sudden and putting that pleased smile on his face while staring at one of his relatives. All those small things, combined with anything Marge thought to be true, did the trick perfectly.

If his aunt and uncle didn't know that it was just and act, they would be terrified by the person that was living under the same roof as they were. But knowing that smile piece of information caused them to trouble them-self with something else. They kept wondering that if he wouldn't be acting at all, would this kind of behaviour be entirely their fault.

Of course, his behaviour only gave more ammunition for Marge's spiteful jabs. Taunting. Not really the smartest thing to do when talking with degenerate that she thought Harry to be. Most people of that kind would just assume her comments to be challenges, and after third day of her stay, Harry had to wonder if there would be anybody who wouldn't be tempted to show her their skill in a very creative, though brutal, way, given the "pointers" she was constantly providing.

Since Harry was who he was, when spoken to in any way, his only response was to stare at the person with his blank face for about ten seconds, then blink really slowly, turn around and simply continue whatever he was doing. When he saw her next time, Harry had to thank Luna for that one.

And again, his behaviour wasn't to Marge's linking, and she just ranted harder about him. Things continued that way, until it was last day of her visit.

* * *

It was one of those fancy kind of diners at Dursley's house, to make Marge's departure finer occasion. It was quite an uneventful affair, with adults continuing a loose talk on various topics. It wasn't until after Marge had lots of wine and some brandy in her, and made a comment that the way he was wasn't even his fault, followed by comparison between his parents and dog-breading, that Harry had enough.

Truth be told, he didn't knew that much about his parents, so he couldn't even speak about them freely without making things up, but he always thought that it should be a written rule that you deal your business with the person you have problems with, not their family, associates, or just anyone that reminds you about them. Harry always thought that that was the reason behind "You shouldn't speak ill of the dead" argument. It's simply a cheap shot to badmouth person who isn't there to defend them-self.

"It's all up to the mother. If mother is no good, pups will turn up just as bad, or even worse," Marge was telling, when Harry chose to interrupt.

"In fact, it's the one that pups learn social behaviour from. If you take them really early from the mother and raise in different way, they will turn out to be totally different in the end."

"I won't stand you saying that about my brother's family who took you in, you ungrateful runt!" Marge snarled, drinking deeply from her glass after she finished the sentence.

"I though we were talking about dogs," Harry said, doing the usual Luna-kind-of-blink "But if you want to talk about what I do, then teachers from St. Brutus' should be mentioned. Like lately, one brought an actual gun to the class, you know, to do that "You shouldn't play with it" talk. BORING! But at least now I know how to clean it when it's jammed. Lucky I stole it to get some practice." Harry finished, thinking that he might have overdone it. He was proven that he did just a second later.

"HOW DARE YOU! Threatening my family in my house! You little..." Marge went into a frenzy, shouting as loudly as she could, with her bloodshot eyes, spite flying everywhere with every word that came from her mouth. If she were a dog she so much adored, she would be put down for rabies on the spot.

Three Dursley's thought three separate things. Dudley was wondering if Harry only joked about having a gun. Petunia didn't quite understood when building they were currently inside became Marge's own house. But Vernon. He just sat there, watching his sister change colours in her anger, various veins throbbing all over her face, that crazy way she was shouting. He sat there, and thought "Is it like that when I'm getting angry?". He sat there and couldn't believe his eyes, because if he would admit the family resemblance everyone else talked about, he didn't like anything from what he was seeing.

Everyone were brought back from their contemplations when Marge went stumbling from her seat, knocking furniture out of place in her drunken state, attempting to throw Harry and his things out, still ranting that she won't stand him any-more in her house. Petunia simply asked him to wait outside for Marge to calm down enough to go to sleep.

That's how he ended sitting at a bench at the end of the street, just staring at the dark sky. Suddenly, he got a feeling that he was being watched. He sat straighter, looking around, and finally noticed a big black dog, just staring at him from around the bush. They just stayed like that, staring at each-other for the longest while, before Harry noticed Magie walking step by step to the dog. When she was really close, she slowly reached out, like she would try to pet it. Then something bizarre happened. The dog started sniffing the air, with Magie's hand hanging only couple of inches away from it's snout. Finally it sneezed, and with last glance at Harry, run away. Harry just chuckled slightly, until he noticed that Magie was still standing there, looking in the direction the dog went to.

'What is it?' Harry asked after a while more.

'Usually I have to try to do something, like touch or pick something up. But that dog felt almost like one of our friends, like I could touch it any-time I wanted. It's just strange...' she answered with her head tilted to the side. Harry couldn't respond as their conversation was interrupted.

"Hey, kid. Have you seen a big black dog around here somewhere?" asked someone from the side.

Harry turned and noticed a man standing couple of yards away. He had a gaunt, sunken face, waxy skin, yellow teeth, and long, matted hair. He was dressed in rags, that maybe, a couple of decades earlier, could have been a nice, decent set of clothes. Harry's initial thought of dog being a stray, just looking for some food, now changed to a best friend of homeless person. Though, he had to wonder how someone like that made his way to the perfectly normal neighbourhood of Privet Drive.

"He went this way," Harry answered, while pointing to where the dog had run off to. After a moment in which exactly nothing happened, he turned again to the man still standing there. "Aren't you going after him?"

"Nah, he's probably just in a playful mood and lurking somewhere around. He'll turn up eventually," the stranger said with a tired, though mischievous smile on his face. "In fact, do you mind I take a little break on that lovely bench you're currently occupying?"

Harry just glanced to Magie, who gave him a sharp nod right before disappearing, confirming that she will be there if he needed help. After that he simply made space on the bench. The stranger took advantage of offered space, and for a tense minute, they would just sit there.

"It isn't every day that someone just lets people like me sit on the same bench." said the man, pointing to his tattered clothes, raising his dark eyebrows.

"Well, it's always good to take a break from living in the clone-world." Harry responded, wanting to keep the conversation light.

The older man just blinked, but after noticing the exact same houses going as far as eye could see, he gave a bark of a laughter. After that, it went smoother, with one thinking up a pun to the sentence the other one said just a moment earlier.

"I haven't introduced myself yet, have I? Some time away from people and you forget your manners." the man said.

"Well, it might have something to do with those torn pocket's of yours, maybe you just dropped them along the way. Don't worry though, I'm not used to carrying my manners around too." Harry responded. The man just smiled while shaking his head.

"I'm Sirius." the stranger said while extending his hand.

"Serious, are you?" Harry responded, at which the man just snorted. "I'm Harry." he said with a smile while shaking the mans hand.

Harry didn't know why, but something about the moment he introduced himself just seemed odd. The way Sirius kept looking at him, like he knew him already, but couldn't tell how, or that reluctance in letting Harry's hand go.

"It's getting late, I should get back." he said, when the older man finally let go of him.

"Yeah, I should track that good for nothing dog..." Sirius responded, that tired sadness again settling into his eyes.

"See you." Harry said with a nod, and begun to make his way back to number four. With his back to the man, he couldn't see Sirius still standing by the bench, watching him walk away.

Harry's mind was too busy contemplating the odd feeling he had course through his bones when they shook hands... almost like he knew the man he had never before seen in his life.

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AN. Just thought that last chapter was too short... Okay, fact that I couldn't sleep had something to do with it too.

Now, I can bash Snape, Malfoy's... pretty much anyone. But it's because bashing can be so much fun. Still, I always keep in mind that behind every singe human being there is a story explaining their behaviour. Like...

What if Dudley isn't a dimwit from birth, just someone who goes the shortest path, and never was made to work or try to hard for anything?

What if Vernon isn't that mean thug who snaps at whoever he don't like, just someone who is tired of having to work for every single thing in his life, and just not having enough patience to deal with any additional stress?

About Petunia's childhood we know a little, so unresolved anger at Lily is good basis as any to make her snap at anything odd.

About Sirius. If someone could check exactly, but I think that Sirius, while guards were near, looked bored more than anything else. He received the newspaper with Weasley family on vacation in it, because he wanted to solve the crossword from what I remember. Only when he saw Pettigrew on the picture, he escaped. So I think he's crazy out of his mind only when it concerns killing the rat. That's why I think he would be able to sit and joke around with Harry, though that haunted look in his eyes still lingers, showing that Dementor's had their effect on him.


	31. In all forms, shapes and sizes

I could be J. K. Rowling, owner of Harry Potter, only during a Look-Alike Contest. But even there I would loose... badly.

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AN. She did it again. EnjoyEveryMoment, notice capital letters. So many details to keep track off. That's why when she is busy checking through the chapter, I'm constantly checking out her profile... Damn. That doesn't sound entirely right, does it?

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The days following aunt Marge's visit was a quiet affair when it came to inhabitants of Number Four, Privet Drive. Dudley would spend hours in basement, punching at his training bag, sometimes getting distracted, missing and falling somewhat gracefully onto the hard, slippery, wooden surface of the floor. Uncle Vernon, after just coming from work, would sit in front of the television, going through the channels, not even paying attention what was actually playing on the screen. Petunia on the other hand was in her usual place by the window, but not really spying on neighbours, just staring off in space, as though there was something more interesting than Mr Golding's dying rose bush.

Harry just assumed that they had to think it all through, make sure that the thing troubling them was true. He thought that they wanted to know that what they were worrying about was normal before voicing their thoughts. It wasn't like Harry didn't have his own disturbing, troubling thoughts. That odd feeling when he had met that peculiar man the other day. It just couldn't stop bugging him, it was just always somewhere at the back of his mind, slowly picking away at his conscious and unconscious brain.

Today was just like any other day up to this point. The Dursley's were moping around the house while Harry did his usual, painstakingly boring chores. Work he did around the house lessened even more when Dudley joined to the circulation, but alas, schedule pointed that it was his turn to clean the kitchen. So he didn't spare much thought to his relatives going through another silent day, instead concentrating on his work, and having a silent conversation with Magie.

While he was hard at work, she sat at the table, swinging her legs, doing everything she could to be totally unhelpful. Harry had to chuckle at this. Even with all those amazing things she could do, she spent so much time thinking of ways to get out of work. That, or she just related to him what couple of people in the city thought about the matter.

'Magie, would you like a pet?' Harry asked after a moment of silence in which she would just roll from side to side atop the table. She tilted her head thoughtfully for a second, but Harry could tell she wasn't really paying attention to her answer.

'I don't know. Why do you ask?' she replied, not even sitting up. She stretched out her legs on the tabletop, yawning slightly as she surveyed Harry with a glint in her eyes.

'Since I can't really forget about that big black dog, I noticed that there aren't any animals in the city,' Harry told her, picturing the big black and shaggy dog that accompanied the mysterious man from the other night. That made her stop swinging, and she turned around to face him.

'I haven't thought about that before, but you're right. I wonder why?' She tilted her head again, and Harry wondered if she always did that when she was thinking.

'Well, like you said yourself, our friends are basically just my thinking patters. As goofy, mad, pedantic, or anything else they are, they're just characteristic things I notice in real people put together. But I was thinking. You can hear about someone as proud as a peacock, sloppy as a pig, healthy as a horse, so it shouldn't be too hard to give each and every one of them a pet. Even though I worry what exactly would fit some of them, I think you are somewhat safe.'

'Why would I be safe? You already know what's mine?'

'I constantly wonder how much of a cat-like person you are. And not really one of those vicious types like lion or a panther. More like a little fluffy kitten...' that just earned him a poisonous glare from her 'Though I guess I can be mistaken,' he corrected himself. 'Fine, if you don't want to be cute, we can just get you a mask until you learn how to maintain that hateful look all the time.'That on the other hand earned him a light a chuckle out of her. 'So what do you think?'

'Hmm...' she sighed, but couldn't respond as a loud mewl from the floor caught their attention.

Harry looked down and spotted a little black cat rubbing against his legs. It certainly couldn't be real, as his aunt would go mad just at the thought of something like that, constantly bringing dirt to her perfectly clean house. Rules for spring cleaning didn't apply in this house; it was more like hour cleaning, maybe even every half an hour if Aunt Petunia was particularly bored.

'Well, it just shows how easily it can be done. Any thoughts how we should name it?'

"Harry, do you have a minute?" his aunt asked, coming to the kitchen.

He looked back at the empty table, then down at the spotless floor. Magie must have disappeared, taking her little friend with her.

"Sure. In fact, I'm already done here." he said, stowing away the cleaning supplies.

"I was just thinking about that old mattress of yours, and thought you would sleep better if you had new one."

"Well, I don't think so," he replied coyly, drying his hands on a teacloth.

"Why?" Petunia asked, clearly surprised.

"Because I slept in it practically all my life. Weeks could pass before I'm accustomed to a new one to the point where I can have a comfortable sleep. Since I'm only here for the summer, it isn't really worth it."

"But then, what about beds at... you know, your school," she asked, somewhat careful not to say the dreaded name.

"I think that they're... special," he said, wondering how long his relatives will be touchy about the subject. "I think that they're comfortable no matter what sleeping habits you might have had before," Harry said, wondering whether or not the beds truly were enchanted.

This time he stopped. But it wasn't because he might say something wrong. At the exact moment he put the last of his cleaning equipment away, he turned to face his aunt. It was an announcement on the television that caught him off balance and caused him to stumble slightly, and made his mouth go slack.

"...The public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous. A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of this mysterious Black should be reported immediately." After that, reporter started relating entirely different set of news, gaining a quick rant from Vernon, before he again begun to jump through the channels.

While the news were disturbing enough, it was the picture shown on the screen that caught most of Harry's attention. The face displayed was hard to be mistaken, and he had a sinking feeling that he knew first name of the infamous Mr. Black.

"Harry? Harry!" A voice shouted, jolting him away from his terrifying thoughts and back to reality,

"Huh?" he asked, shaking his head wildly.

"You looked like you were somewhere else. Is something wrong?" Aunt Petunia asked him, touching him briefly on the shoulder, before snatching back her hand quickly

"No. I just remembered something. I'll be in my room," he said whilst walking up the stairs, not paying attention to his aunt still standing in the kitchen, watching him curiously.

When he got to his room, he knew one thing. There was no reason to tell his already distraught family that he saw Black just couple of days back. Beside that, he had no idea what was going on. Was that why he had that odd feeling that something was wrong with the man he had meet? Since he hadn't ever met an escaped convict before, he had no way of comparing the feeling; but just that whole notion... An escaped convict having couple of minutes to sit with him right outside of people's homes, and do a quick joke contest. It was just so ridiculous on so many levels that it wasn't even funny. While being on the run would explain that haunted eyes of his, it didn't explain why he wasn't afraid to sit on that bench, in full view of anyone that happened to walk past. They said that he was "armed and dangerous". If they would add "out of his mind" it would somewhat stick, but now? At first he had that odd feeling, but now he knew that there was something wrong with the picture, but he had no idea what exactly could it be.

He hadn't even had a full hour to think it through, when tapping at his window reached his ears. Clear signal that his owl was back. This year he tried to keep up to date with his friends, but even with somewhat steady schedule, Hedwig amazed him. She was there whenever he needed to write someone, but sometimes she would come with an unexpected letter from Hermione, the only one who didn't have her own owl. With all the flying that she did this year, Harry had to wonder how she knew when he or Hermione wanted to send mail to the other, and exactly how close Hermione's house was from Privet Drive.

This train of thoughts ended the second he begun reading Hermione's latest letter. The single topic she described in this one, was a loud story described in length in latest Daily Prophet. The story was so loud because it regarded the only known escape ever from the wizard prison, Azkaban. Name of the escaped convict, just because the world hated him right now, was Sirius Black. She was so nice to even add the pages from the paper, with the same unmistakable face, this time on wizards moving picture.

"Aha! A clue, Watson. We may be onto something," passed through Harry's mind, but not necessarily followed by an answer to this mystery. Instead, this latest snippet of information just made already complicated problem so much more confusing. He didn't even noticed how much time passed while he was just sitting at his desk, staring out of the window, while deep in his thoughts. But at some point...

'I don't know if you really noticed, but he's here again,' someone said from beside him, bringing him back to reality once more.

'Who? Where? Again? What are you talking about?' he asked in confusion. He didn't quite understood what Magie, who was sitting at his desk, petting her cat, was trying to tell him. Or even, when she got there.

Her response was to just stare at something just behind him, and after he followed her gaze, he couldn't understand what was so interesting in his wardrobe. That lasted as long as it took the pair of tennis-ball-like eyes to blink, which was enough for Harry to catch on the Spot-the-difference game Magie was playing with him.

"Could you stop lurking around in my wardrobe already?" Harry said aloud.

Dobby reluctantly stepped out of the closet, wringing his hands awkwardly.

"Dobby thought that he was good at hiding. But Dobby should know better than to sneak up on Great Harry Potter. How long had Harry Potter known Dobby was here?"

"Long enough," Harry answered while looking at Magie, who was smirking down at him. "So, why do I owe the pleasure of you visiting me again?" he asked, once again turning to the house elf looking up at him shyly.

"With a bad, bad wizard out there, Dobby thought he would protect Harry Potter, and earn the right to be Harry Potter's elf," the house elf answered excitedly, just to look at the floor moments later. "Dobby forgot that Harry Potter doesn't need Dobby," he finished in a depressed voice.

He didn't know why, but Harry instantly remembered two seemingly unimportant things. A letter from Hermione, asking how he liked it, and the way Dobby tried helping him year before.

"Let me guess that you had something to do with my missing Birthday present?"

Dobby just nodded awkwardly, and pulled couple of packages out of the pillowcase he was wearing.

"You said that you know about a bad wizard. Do you mean Sirus Black?" Harry asked seeing the dejected state Dobby was in. The house-elf just nodded, with his head still low. "Would you mind telling me what exactly do you know about him?"

That was exactly what Dobby was waiting for. He immediately jumped on the chance to be helpful again, and told story that it heard long ago. A story that didn't exactly make Harry's day. It was roughly the same thing that was circulated through wizarding community after Sirius Black was apprehended, that he was Potter's secret keeper when they went into hiding, betrayed them to the Dark Lord, and then was caught right after murdering Peter Petigrew and leaving only his finger. It was also the first time that Harry heard that he had a godfather.

Harry just frowned harder with every passing sentence that came from Dobby's excited and never stopping mouth. His first thought that there was something wrong with the picture, now became a gaping hole in the whole affair. Now it was quite easy to understand an unknown convict just wanting to rest and for a while "act normal". But this? Sirius was said to be close friend of Potter's, then he couldn't have mistaken him. Everyone say just how much he resembled his father. At least that explained why the man felt familiar, but if he wanted all Potters dead, they were sitting there long enough to let him get Harry's trust and get the job done. His concerns were partly solved by Dobby.

"Dobby doesn't think that that story is entirely true."

"Why is that?"

"The Malfoy's are bad, bad wizards..." Harry had to smile at the little fellow. While earlier he looked ready to punish himself for even thinking bad of his masters, now he cringed and shuddered, clearly fighting the impulse. Harry had to think just how much power a "master" had over his house-elf.

"They are bad, bad wizards," Dobby started again, when the initial impulse passed. "And Mas... Malfoy senior laughed the whole thing off, saying that papers found perfect scapegoat for what happened. Dobby is good at hiding, Dobby is. Ma... Malfoy senior never knew how much Dobby could hear." Again, Harry had to smile whenever the house-elf sidestepped saying master.

He sat there, thinking about the whole case, and settled on thinking that another summer project fell right into his hands. It was time to investigate... but where could he find that kind of a hat. He certainly didn't need a pipe, but maybe a nice coat would be in order. Just as he started thinking about his own Dr. Watson, Magie appeared, already dressed in a complete costume for that character, even complete with a small, and possibly fake moustache. He didn't even had time to snort, before Dobby interrupted his musings for a second time.

"Will Harry Potter be wanting Dobby, or should Dobby go away?" he asked, again wringing his hands nervously, his big orb eyes looking up at him, unblinking.

Harry regarded him closely, thinking again just how long he didn't have any kind of master. "You can stay," he said eventually, hoping that he wouldn't have to regret that decision.

The little elf immediately started bouncing excitedly. "I can? I can! Will Master Potter be needing something?" Dobby asked, again settling into the role of a perfect butler.

"I don't want to be your Master..." he begun.

"Then what should Dobby call Harry Potter?" he asked before Harry could finish his sentence.

"How about friend?" Harry said with a smile. That gave Dobby a pause, and he just stood there looking at Harry with those big, unnerving eyes of his. "I don't want to bond with you." Immediately Dobby lost all enthusiasm, again helplessly staring at the floor. "Or rather, I should say that I don't need to." Dobby raised his head, confused.

Harry just winked at Magie, who was again in her usual jeans and t-shirt combo, as she went to stand right in front of Dobby. The moment she placed her hand on top of his head, a slight shudder passed through his body. She just stroked his head, and after a while, he fell to the ground, completely relaxed, with a goofy grin on his face.

Many stories Harry heard during his "lessons" with the basilisk, was about magical animals. Just like Slytherin said, wand magic was totally different from wandless magic, when it came to how energy was used. Mage's using wandless magic just simply radiated energy, just like one does with body heat. Continuing this example would place wand right next to muggle flame-thrower. Heat in both cases, but different way of distributing it. Once upon a time, it was enough for one wizard to live in one place for it to begin spawning magical plants or animals. Over time, they would set into balance, and even if that wizard died, the power would just circulate in the ecosystem, following natural order. When wand users started to cast their spells, with their power alone they disrupted that elusive balance. It wouldn't be so bad if only animals and plants could use power from those spells, but just like with flame-thrower, you couldn't use warmth immediately, unless you wanted to get burned. Whatever energy was left after the spell took it's effect, and was around so long to be useful to environment, was no comparison to what was lost in the exchange.

That's why at first there was a large scale extinction effect in the magical flora and fauna, after which whatever plant's and animal's were left, tried to adapt to changing world. House-elves were once just another kind of forest-spirit, just like pixies or some kinds of fairies. When the world changed, fairies took route of becoming their transparent spirit-selves that they were now, pixies on the other hand got smaller and smaller with every passing generation. Both of those tactics served to minimise energy they needed to live. Elves on the other hand thought they would be better if they would be useful to the modern wizards. Maybe Elves never were those beautiful kind of human sized creatures, roaming the woods like muggle legends tell they were, but they certainly weren't shrivelled twisted little things that people called House-elves. House-elf, even the name was just a pun, just like house-cat or other kind of house-pet. The way Elves looked now was caused by generations of living on what little "food" they were given, courtesy by their "masters". That was only reason for bonding with elf, just to feed your little pet. Certainly they couldn't live on their own, not in the wizarding world as it was now.

That's why Harry had to smile at the little guy, as he was lying on the floor being petted by Magie. Harry had to wonder if that gurgling noise that Dobby was emanating wasn't by chance a purr.

While that was going on, he turned to the presents still residing on his bed. There was that Broom Servicing Kit just like Hermione described it. Beside that, there were other minor presents from Neville, Ron, and something that looked like a dream-catcher made of spaghetti from Luna, with note saying that she heard that it was good for catching Mira-Nighte's. Harry just had to wonder how on earth she was able to bend uncooked spaghetti.

Beside that, Harry spotted one more peculiar item on his bed. It looked like a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it. In the same envelope it fell from, there was a note from the Twins.

_We thought that it's a suitable birthday present, and fact that we already know everything it can teach us have nothing to do with us giving it to you. At this point you already should know that you shouldn't judge parchment by its cover, not that it have anything beside front page. We once told you about prankster secret, and since you showed some skill in it, we leave you with one last challenge. Let's see how fast you can find it's secret._

Well, it seamed that it was raining mysteries today. Harry just had to pray that there wasn't prognosis for thunderstorms coming the next day.

* * *

The Knight Bus. Not really most pleasant, safest or even funniest ride in Harry's life, but it was probably the fashion that you travelled in, that already made it legendary, with students grumbling how they were made to use it's services for one reason or another. Still, it was best way to travel for someone who couldn't make a port-key, didn't know how to apparate, or have an easy access to Floo.

Harry couldn't quite understand wizards when it came to travel. From what he had read so far, all forms of travel that they had at their disposal were quite uncomfortable, even after you got used to the usually crash landing part. But still it made absolutely no sense in economic way.

Least used were port-keys. All that took to make one was any object which you could charm, and you could travel to any place on earth, considering your calculations were good enough. Yes, that was quite the downside, having to know couple of arithmetical equations for long distance travel, or to places you never were in. That was why there was strict exam when you applied for license, but if you got one, you could easily find a job in any part of transport industry, which included nice starting salary.

Next in line was Apparition. Again, required was a license, but test was something like acquiring driving license, when port-key exam was something closer to flight license. After that if there wasn't a magical marker in place, like apparition zones in trading districts, explaining why Auror's took so long to come to crime scene, you had to know location you were Apparating to, meaning you had to be there at least once already. Still for long distance travel you usually had to make more than one jump, which was quite tiring with each mile travelled.

Now the case became absurd with Floo network, since it was used the most. While after passing your exams and acquiring licenses you could port-key and apparate to your hearts content from practically any spot in the world, Floo had to be used from a fireplace connected to the system. Moreover you had to buy the powder. Harry didn't knew if wizards understood just how much it costed to grow, gather, process and finally deliver, from plant to it's final, powdered form. Maybe in older days, when flora of magical world was way larger but now... If time meant money, it was way more economic to have an adult side-along apparate couple of people exhaustion him/herself, take half or an hour to rest, and go along his business, than have the same group go through Floo network.

Harry didn't particularly care for money, since he didn't go to shops often, but that last trip with Knight Bus just showed him how little money he had left from last year. In fact, now he remembered that last year he hadn't even made any withdrawals, just going down to vaults for that roller-coaster-like ride. Just another proof that he haven't acquired that usual "Have some change in your pocket" habit most people have.

He made this trip to Diagon Alley mostly to look for some more information on Sirius Black, something he doubted Hogwart's library would include, though student's records could be an interesting read. Still, all his plans had to be postponed until he visited Gringot's. Again going up the steps of the bank, he remembered to bow back to the goblin welcoming customers to the bank. He waited patiently for person in front of him to finish his business, but just as he stepped up to the goblin at the desk, he remember one little thing. He didn't had his key at hand.

"How may Gringots serve you today, sir?" a goblin at the desk asked in voice that showed he used this sentence probably for the thousandth time today. Harry wasn't really surprised, considering all of the customers or employees bustling around the main entrance.

"I would like to visit my vault, but I don't have my key with me," Harry said, trying to keep his tone nonchalant.

The goblin stopped scribbling in his small pocket book to regard Harry with slightly narrowed eyes. Harry had to remind himself of the initial thoughts he had after reading the poem on the Gringots' doors for the first time. He certainly won't earn any sympathy while making problems with simplest thing bank can do for it's customers.

"Other kind of identification will suffice," goblin said, and after noticing that Harry didn't quite understand his comment. "Your wand, please," he added simply, strangely making please sound slightly offensive.

Harry handed his wand over, and watched goblin run his hand over it. He did it two more times before, with eyebrow's furrowing he asked:

"Is this a wand straight from a wand shop?"

"No, sir," Harry said, not knowing what was happening. He shuffled his feet slightly, and coughed as the goblin stopped whatever he was doing to Harry's precious wand.

Goblin snapped his gaze straight at him, regarding him curiously, partly for the added "Sir".

"How long have you been using it then?" he snapped in the end, his eyes possible even narrower, shaped now into slits.

"Two years, this will be my third year at Hogwarts." That just made the goblin scowl harder, if Harry read his facial expression right.

Suddenly, the goblin at the desk snapped his fingers, and immediately two armed ones came to Harry's sides. He just stood there, opting for being quiet unless asked to speak. He didn't want to make matters worse, since he didn't know what was going on in the first place.

"Please, follow me," the goblin who just jumped from his high stool said, going straight for one of the doors at the end of the hall, with one of the armed ones going right behind Harry. The other one stood guard in front of now vacant desk.

Harry thought that this would be seen as quite a scene, him being walked under ground, but one look behind him showed that everyone else was just minding their business. How was he to know that it was normal for visitors at Gringots having a guard when taken deeper into the bank? For cart ride one bank employee was enough, since one was enough to keep an eye on customers going in and out of the vaults. For any other matters, there was one to announce it with proper department employee, and at least one more to keep an eye on the waiting customers. There was a point where hearing about dead customers who got lost in the maze-like bank was just enough.

Even with many corridors to chose from in many intersections along the way, goblins seemed to go swiftly through the route, just like it was straight line for them, and in no time he was in front of a door looking like someone important was sitting right behind them. He didn't had long to appreciate intricate carvings on it, since just as quickly as he was brought here, the goblin who took his wand explained the matter at hand to who Harry guessed was his superior. The goblin went out of the office and hurried, probably to go back to his post, as Harry was ushered into the office.

At the desk sat a really old goblin, though Harry's opinion might be biased by the white hair on his head. He really was someone important, walls of his office lined with ageless books and what seemed to be expensive trinkets, if what little magical education Harry had might be trusted. If not all that, two assistants doing his biding and additional guards in the room might be a big hint.

"Ah, hello, Mr. Potter. My name is Ragnok," the aged goblin said in a scratchy voice, at which one of his assistant immediately served a pitcher of crystal clear water and two cups. As Harry sat in the offered chair, one of the guards left his spot to whisper couple of sentences in Gobbledegook, before swiftly returning to his post. "Humour an old goblin like me Mr. Potter. Pray tell, why would human bow to goblin or add Sir while addressing one?"

"Well, if I'm not mistaken I think you're talking about the Gringot's entrance. But it just feels like a polite thing to do. In muggle world there are people called ushers or doorkeepers, and they do the same thing, welcoming you to the building while holding the door for you, or hailing a cab while you're exiting. It's just natural to say thank you, or something similar, but since I didn't know if I should talk with goblins on the steps, I just did what they did. And adding sir, to me, is just a way to show respect. I always thought that it's important to show respect to people you make business with. I hope I haven't offended anyone," Harry finished his speech, while looking around the various goblins in the room. Ragnok just raised an eyebrow at his response.

"We goblins have a saying Mr. Potter," Ragnok begun after a while of thought "Not that we use it much, since we don't make a lot of them, but still sometimes we say, "You made a mistake? Don't worry, nobody is human.""

Harry had to make a double take. It was slight change on muggle "Nobody is perfect" quote, but still, it was strange to think that a fierce goblin would do a try at humour.

'I'll bite,' Harry said eventually, giving Ragnok a side-ways glance.

"That is good one, sir. But have you heard this one? If a blood purist is in the middle of a forest, with nobody able to hear what he is saying, is he still wrong about the words that he's spewing?" another twist on muggle saying, but it was enough, if those toothy grins that bloomed on every face of goblin present was any indication.

"No, I must say that I haven't heard that one before. But it doesn't seem like a hard puzzle at all," he replied, getting a few deep chuckles from the goblins present, and watching Harry for his next move.

'Show him,' a voice said out of nowhere, and Harry was surprised to see Salazar standing right next to him. He didn't have to check if he heard him right, as even with the corner of his eye he could catch that piercing look of his mentor and a sharp nod indicating that he should just do it.

"Ragnok, sir. I heard that it isn't proper to use magic inside the walls of the bank, but if I might show you something?"

The aged and wrinkled goblin watched him for a long while, sometimes switching his gaze from Harry's face to look at the wand now lying in the middle of his desk. It was now Ragnok's turn to consider if he should bite.

"Very well, but be careful about it," he said in the end, not even having to motion to the guards standing at attention.

Harry raised his hands from the arm rest of the chair he was sitting in, but instead of reaching for his wand, he held them on eye level, on both sides of his head. A confused frown which appeared on Ragnok's face, changed to a wide-eyed surprise the moment the pitcher lifted itself from the desk and begun to fill one of the cups. He had to raise his own hand to stop guards from striking down the only human in the room. He regarded the pitcher for a moment, Harry thought that, for a split second, he might even look at Magie who was filling the second cup, before once again looking at the wand still lying on his desk.

"That would explain things," Ragnok said after pitcher was again standing still, and he was served his cup of water. "Tell me Mr. Potter, why have you just done that?"

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, not really understanding.

"I was asking, why would you show me such a great secret. Not many wizards can do that, and knowledge that you do, can be either profitable, or very damaging. Or even both, depending who will be concerned," Ragnok said, once again carefully watching every move Harry did.

"I don't really know a lot about politics or negotiations, but I know that I should give something to receive something else." Harry begun, still remembering the poem. "So, it's kind of peace offering, since you now know that I can do that, and it won't be a surprise for you. But even then, I think it might be a slight threat to you. Up until now I was just a human, nothing if he have no wand with him. Now you have to trouble yourself just how much can I do without it." Truthfully, he would have stopped at the first part, but after some urging from Slytherin, he added other, more threatening, part of the story.

The result was something that probably no human heard for a good couple of centuries. A deep belly laughter filled the room, courtesy of Master Ragnok. Harry had to say that if he heard that kind of a sound in the middle of the night, he would bolt as far away from it as he could, but seeing mirth in goblin eyes, was probably the only thing which allowed him to classify that particular sound as "jolly". Soon enough other goblins would join in the chuckle, clearly laughing at a joke that Harry didn't understood.

"Very good, very good indeed," said Ragnok, while coming down from his fit. "Threaten them with truth. Are you sure you shouldn't been born a goblin Mr. Potter?" he added, getting another round of laughter from the room.

As it was, goblins weren't as they seemed to be. Mean? Yes. Malicious? Of course. Harsh, ill willed and holding grudge for long, long time? Yes, yes, and beyond the point where it hurt. But... and it was a large but, they were that way only to the ones they despised, or raged merciless war against. That explained why Salazar was confused the first few time Harry mentioned Goblin rebellions near him. It just so happened that wizard of modern times were in the "Hold grudge for all eternity" group, where goblins were concerned at least.

Goblins were not small without a reason. Their domain was earth, and they spent many generations carving their caves out of solid rock. Their small frame didn't hinder their strength, in fact, denser muscles gave them more power out of their little body, with additional bonus of their flesh being their greatest weapon and armour. There was a reason why most wars with Goblins ended with treaties.

Those only started when humans begun delving into the art of mining. At first nothing major happened, but after they noticed already carved tunnels just under the surface of the earth, they went straight for them and riches at their end, bypassing all the exhausting digging which would probably take years. Of course there was a problem in form of inhabitants of those tunnels. Namely, Goblins. It was one of those power struggles between riches hungry and those who only wanted to live their lives.

Back then Goblins didn't treat people as one big group, still being happy to trade with anyone honourable. That changed quickly when their own swords or armours were used against them by someone who inherited such a valuable thing. That was why goblins now regarded passing their artefact's along wizardry lines as theft. Not because they were greedy little bastards, but there simply weren't many descendants who would be as noble as their ancestors.

Craftsman only begun work on the piece when he regarded human who ordered it to be worthy. Next generation should pass through the same procedure, with descendant of the crafter judging descendant of the buyer. Not returning the item to the goblin nation upon death of person who ordered the object in itself disqualified the person as honourable. Maybe wizards regarded goblins as demons incarnate just because goblin etiquette wasn't the most commonly taught subject upon this earth.

Harry just summarised that he should visit Gringots more often than just once a year.

* * *

Back at the Privet Drive, after very long talk with Master Ragnok, Harry sat at his desk still thinking through things he learned in just couple of hours. It was strange that even while he was so deep in his thoughts she could distract him so successfully.

He turned to Magie, who was lying on her stomach on his bed, looking at the piece of parchment Twins sent him as a birthday present, and chewing gum. No, not chewing. Poping. He stared at her for couple of minutes, while she would just swing her legs back and forth, staring at the blank piece of parchment in front of her and chewing. No, not chewing. Poping.

'What exactly are you doing?' he asked in the end.

'Reading through instruction manual.' she answered simply, doing exactly what she was doing so far.

Harry gagged and choked, even though he had nothing to choke on. Just the thought that he spent hours thinking about that parchment before he went to Diagon Alley, and now her telling him that there was instruction manual, could do this to him.

'There is an f-ing instruction manual for this thing?' he asked incredulously.

'Yes, here, on the back side.' she answered, picking the parchment up and shoving it right in front of his face.

For Harry it still looked like a perfectly clear piece of parchment. Magie huffed, though he had that strange idea that it was a masked chuckle, probably entirely at his expense. She took off his glasses, cleaned them just like she did in the Chamber of Secrets. When she gave them back, he could see blurry spots on the parchment. It wasn't clear like in the Chamber, but it was probably difference between wandless and wand magic. Maybe if he was like Magie, he could see everything clearly. That made him wonder, just how differently she looked upon things. Still, scrunching over the black dots on the parchment, he could make out couple of words.

"I solemnly swear... that I'm ... up to no good," Harry read aloud, almost face-slapping himself moments later. Because just like that, the whole thing became as clear as day for him.


	32. Things to think about

If you take name of author of original Harry Potter series and try to rearange letters, there is no way you will get God B. Damned, so stop thinking that I could be J. K. Rowling.

* * *

AN. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 1 premiere, so EnjoyEveryMoment abandoned me to go and watch it... Haven't heard from her for a while... This chapter isn't much because I didn't have someone to develop ideas with... Had to clean it all by myself *grumbles*... Whatever! Who would need her in the first place... *sigh* *looks left, no one's there* *looks right, no one's there* *hangs his head* *sniff* I'm so lonely...

* * *

Harry's vacation turned out to be quite busy. Between studying Marauders Map, searching information regarding Sirius Black and his visits to Gringott's to have a friendly chat with Master Ragnok, he had enough on his mind without having to worry about days just passing by.

Marauders Map was quite an ingenious piece of magic. Whoever created it must have put a lot of effort in his research, as nearly every place in the castle was drawn out, be it corridors, classrooms, or even secret passageways. Though Harry still knew that not everything, since Chamber of Secrets was nowhere to be seen. Even without that, there was enough interesting things visible to keep him busy and sometimes intrigued how he could have passed right next to them.

First time he swept his gaze over the map he was surprised to see secret exits from the school. Only after a moment of thought he came to conclusion that he shouldn't have been. Hogwarts was a Castle. It was pretty common thing to put underground tunnels which were useful when the castle was under siege. You could smuggle rations inside of the castle, without your enemy knowing, or exit in the middle of the night to sabotage or ambush enemy troops. Of course, in the event that the incoming army succeeding in blowing the gates open, a secure escape rout was very much appreciated.

But even with that, Harry had to wonder about one peculiar tunnel that was shown on the map. It didn't started inside of the castle, but instead was in the middle of Hogwarts grounds, running all the way to the edge of the map. It nearly looked like someone miscalculated while digging his own entrance from the outside, coming up in that particular spot. That in itself was peculiar, but if someone put it on the map as an escape route from the castle, Harry had to wonder where it might lead.

Even more interesting riddle was Sirius Black. It wasn't even about who he was, where he came from or what were his intentions. The puzzling part was about information. Saying more, there simply was none. While Harry could find books about Black family with short notice of him, over-exaggerated stories of the fall of Dark Lord naming Sirius his handyman, or even some news in old papers about Black's and Potters deeds, relationships and the like. But beside that, there was nothing solid. Nothing which would indicate he was the wolf in sheep clothing like everyone told him to be, being friends with Harry's parents only because he was waiting for good opportunity to strike.

Maybe in itself it wasn't so strange, Harry thought at first. Not everyone have to be the talk of the town and be in every book or on first page of every newspaper. Harry stopped even counting how many stories of himself he had encountered during his search. But even if that wasn't strange, there always was that saying that if you have at least two such cases, you have a conspiracy.

Harry's "second case" in this instant, were Ministry files regarding the man, and this was where the real problem started. It wasn't even about bureaucratic mumbo-jumbo about handing out governmental documents, because it haven't got that far. In first letter Harry sent to the Ministry, he inquired about public records, something simple, like what exactly Sirius Black was charged with, what was exact date of the trial as if he could check it in old newspapers, or even how long he was meant to stay in Azkaban. Unfortunately nothing came out of it.

He got a very well worded reply from the records department, explaining how in unsettling times some records might have been misplaced or lost, and that such accidents happened. Reading between the lines: there were no records concerning Sirius Black in the ministry. Only things they had were two forms. One of Black being delivered to a holding cell. Second, that he was transferred to Azkaban. Both signed in only couple of days time. The second one was their proof that he was meant to stay in the prison, but outside of that, there was no proof that Sirius Black had a trial. Harry didn't knew what to think about that, but like lawyer's like to say: "A man is innocent, until he is proven guilty.". Too bad that many bad people used that to weasel them self out of jail.

It was good that Harry had those talks with Master Ragnok, because they certainly got his mind from running in circles about black hole that was Black's case, and somewhat lightened his mood.

When you got on the better side of a goblin you noticed why they were so good at running their bank. They were efficient, swift and precise about their work. When they noticed that there was problem to be solved, there was no pause before they got right on it, and they didn't rest well until the job was done.

It was probably due to their history, giving the goblin nation a completely different mindset that the one of human being. In the early ages when goblin's only started to dig through earth, building their homes, they couldn't just end the day's work and go to sleep. There was no rest until they made sure that newly dug out tunnel was stable and would hold. If it wasn't the case, one minor cave in might disturb earth around, ending in the entire tunnel complex caving in, burying every goblin alive.

In those times, goblins knew no form of art, paintings or sculptures being useless in the dimly lit corridors. The only form of music that they practised, were a low rumbling hum accompanying the steady sound of their tools beating against the hard rock. But still, it was more of practical thing, keeping work going, and assuring that they were breathing steadily, keeping them from running out of breath.

So, even if humans and goblins wanted homes, food, and family all the same, there was a major difference when you compared what they strived for in life. While average human being wants to posses, be it money, knowledge, skills, or anything else, all goblins wanted just one thing. Honour. Even with all the money they earned while running their bank, coins were nothing more to them than another glittering rock they could carve out of the earth. What amount of money did, was to show which goblin did his job best, thus which should be honoured most among his peers.

In human history there was no shortage of heroes, while day to day news were mostly about all the robberies, scandals, catastrophes or anything drastic that happened in the world. In goblin nation, it was other way around. Goblins talked mostly about their successes, or praises that other goblin rightfully received. In their history though, was all the evil of their world. Goblins did not hide their faults in the dark areas of the history, skipping tragedies that happened in the past. While every goblin wanted to be honoured and remembered, all of goblin history was composed of those who tried to cheat their way to greatness. All the scum of goblin nation were described in every possible detail, with extreme pressure on the punishment they received. It wasn't long before Harry summarised those tales as a simple message. "Bring honour to your nation, and you will be remembered. Be a disgrace, and you will be remembered for all eternity."

* * *

Harry was sitting in his room, after another uneventful information search followed by a nice chat with Master Ragnok. Even now Harry had to constantly remind himself just how cruel goblins could be, even to their own kind. He was just thinking about latest story regarding lazy Swiftfang, who was punished for going to sleep instead of doing his work. As a punishment, a big bucket was placed on his shoulders to which rocks were added until such a point where he understood for what he was being punished. Only problem was, he never got it right.

Fortunately, Harry was spared of second visualisation of a very graphic description of goblin dying under a constantly growing pile of rocks that Ragnok supplied, by tapping on his window. He turned his gaze, only to notice an owl with a letter in the same green ink as the one he received from Hogwarts.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We remind you that every third-year student is required to pick two elective subjects. Available are the following:_

_Study of Ancient Runes_

_Arithmancy_

_Muggle Studies_

_Care of Magical Creatures_

_Divination_

_Please, put some thought while picking your electives, because once the classes start, it will not be easy to change your classes._

_We await your owl by no latter than July 31._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

It seemed that another, more immediate problem, begged for Harry's attention. He gave the Hogwarts owl a treat and some water, while it was resting in Hedwig's cage. She was out again, and Harry had to wonder if she won't come back with a letter from Hermione. His friend probably got her letter first, and is at the moment thinking hard about what she is going to take. He just shook his head at another ramble-letter that he was bound to get some time in the future, and turned back to his own choices.

Harry already talked in length about different subjects now taught at Hogwarts, but never talking which would be good to learn sometime in the future. Muggle Studies and Care of Magical Creatures were immediately off his list, but for two separate reasons. He obviously didn't need Muggle Studies, but he would certainly take Care of Magical Creatures. Herbology was a core class because most ingredients for potions came from plants. But a big share also came from animals. Even without that, fauna of magical world was so different from common animals, that it was certainly good to know which animals were safe to be around, and how to protect yourself from more violent ones.

Divination, the ancient art of predicting future from cards, tea-leaves and crystal balls was in constant state of decline from when wizards came upon Arithmancy. Most wizards treated it as only that, a more probable way to predict future, but the truth was that it was more like Mathematics than simply Numerology. Math is an essential part of many different disciplines of life, but as wizards base their theories on magical energy, they need only Arithamncy to describe them all.

Simply said, Arithmancy is a way to describe every, even most complicated, pattern that occur in the world in as a solid equation. What muggle's call Numerology is only a set of Arithantical equations which describe relations between physical objects and living things. That's why you can find out persons character, knowing by what planets, or more exactly, their magical energies, was that person affected during their growth. But Arithmancy is much more than that, since there are more equations describing pretty much every part of life. Most ritual circles or even wand patters were derived from Arithmantical equations, describing that particular shape for best flow of magic.

Study of Ancient Runes on the other hand, is concerned with language that is used to fill in those patterns, though after one of talks with Salazar, Harry came to conclusion that they should change the course name to Magic Symbols. In Slytherin times there were people who still used runes as actual way to write, since those languages were not so much dead at the time. Of course, magic meaning tied to them could be also blamed on wizards who used stones with words written in runes on them to communicate with their magic. But nowadays, runes were only symbols, and only reason why they are still being used, is because they were used thus far. It was quite easy to adapt Arithmantical equations to a different language, even if it would be english. The only problem with that, is convenience. All the books would have to be corrected, and people doing magic today, would have to relearn everything they know in new system. Given all that, and many more problems along the way, everyone that had that initial idea quickly lost their enthusiasm. Thus, even a thousand years later wizards used the same system.

Harry summarised his thoughts, got that mischievous smile on his, and sent his response with Hogwarts owl, which by now was ready to go. His choice would certainly ruffle couple feathers.


	33. Trips back

If you somehow got an idea that I'm J. K. Rowling, then you should switch off "Insinuation" option in your life and go back to reality, because I'm not the owner of Harry Potter series.

* * *

AN. She's back! She's back! EnjoyEveryMoment is back! Yes, you heard me right. She's back! *yells while bouncing all over the place and wagging his tail* *stops* *looks at his tail* Why exactly do I have a tail? Tail: *twitch* Me:Really? Tail:*sway* Me:Well, that explains a lot... but where was I? Tail:*wiggle* Me:You're right... She's back! She's back! *starts yelling and jumping all over the place* Tail:*wag*wag*wag*

* * *

By now, to Harry, train ride to Hogwarts was like a well choreographed dance amongst the chaos called his classmates. He met with his friends at the station, together they stow their trunks in last compartment, which at this point could be called theirs. Then they spent time talking with their families until it's time to go. Of course, even best performers, who did their routine thousands of times, have moments when their execution isn't quite as perfect as they would've liked.

This year Harry took Knight Bus instead of troubling his uncle with the journey to London. As a result, he came even earlier than usual, and knew that it would be some time before anyone else got to the station. Not minding it much, he simply grabbed his trunk and went for their usual compartment. Only when he stumbled through the door, trying to pull his trunk behind him, did he notice that it was already occupied.

"Let me help you with that," said voice right behind him, as he was sitting on the floor, with his trunk jammed in the doorway.

He noticed a man standing in the compartment. He was dressed in worn-out robes, with patches visible in couple of places. Even though he seemed quite young, he had that tired feel about him, which him looking ill, and those flecks of grey in his hair, did nothing to placate.

"Ah, hello Harry," the man said, after getting a closer look at him.

"Hello, Professor R. J. Lupin."

Lupin got that confused look on his face, probably thinking from where Harry might have known him. Harry quickly pointed to his suitcase, which had professors name writen on it in fading letters, not wanting to tell the man that he had stumbled upon his name on few occasions during his quest for information. That seemed to be enough for the man, and he grabbed Harry by the arm, hoisting him to his feet, giving him a sudden jolt. After he was on his feet, together they placed his trunk on the rack.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I had a rough night, and would like to catch some sleep," Lupin said after the job was done. Harry just nodded, taking his seat.

Truthfully, he wasn't even paying attention, too preoccupied with that jolt he got when Remus picked him off the floor. It wasn't a shock from being picked up. It was something closer to when your arm automatically jerks off from some kind of danger. It was like he had his hand right in the jaws of a snarling wolf...

Harry's thought quickly caught on to that strange feeling he had while meeting Sirius Black. Now this with Remus Lupin. He had to wonder if every friend of his father had that strange feel to them. Probably he would never know, since Peter Petigrew was dead. He had to chuckle at the thought that if he suddenly came back from the dead, it would certainly have a strange feel to it.

But now he was sitting in one compartment with Remus Lupin, new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, friend of his father... a werewolf. Harry read about werewolf's in first year, when he was reading everything about magic world that he could. Between what he knew and information in the papers, there were enough hints that he could make an educated guess regarding Lupins "rough nights".

No matter what muggles imagined, being a werewolf was no piece of a cake. Yes, you got more strength, stamina, slightly sharper senses and only transformed in full moon, once every month. But "wolfs curse" like come called it, wasn't mainly a physical condition. The worst of it affected the mind.

Werewolves look differently from normal wolves because of the human part. What no one can see though, is what goes on in the mind of the affected person. In the mind of every werewolf there is a constant struggle between man and wolf. And in a quite literal sense. The reason why in full moon werewolves act so violently, is because of that fight for domination, to see who is strongest and who have right to control the body, which have stopped the transformation half way between man and animal shape. Body on the other hand, not knowing what to do with its mind busy, follows the only signal that comes forward. Anger, rage and violence.

Wolfsbane potion drunk right before full moon, can keep the inner wolf sedated, allowing human to win over the beast and keep his senses, even when the body still goes through with the transformation. The problem is, wolfsbane potion can be administered ONLY before full moon. For the rest of the month werewolf is left to struggle against the whispers in his mind, wolf lurking right under his skin, and that constant thought to do harm to others.

That's why the population of werewolves is low. Not because of wizards efforts to find cure. It's just not many people who were bitten can go on living like that. Some instantly go mad, or just loose to the wolf, never again regaining human shape. Others, even if they get through transformation couple of times, can't stand the thought of living on, and choose a blissful escape into non-existence. That leaves two groups of people that do live on. One group is like Remus, just living day by day, finding something to keep them anchored, give them strenght to fight on. Second though, they are too much like wolves them-self, prone to violence, that it might be that they don't even notice.

Of course, nobody in wizarding world would ask werewolf what exactly goes on it his head, and Harry only know because of Salazar.

* * *

**FLASHBACK**

"You can question my ways of teaching you, but you must understand that it's essential to know the world around you, your place in it, and what repercusions the things you do have." Slytherin told him some time after he got settled in his new house at the moor near the city.

"As a proof, listen to this." he said, settling in for a longer story. "Like I told you once, in my times wizards were mostly experimenting with magic. At one point, someone came up with idea of experimenting on animals. You could change their shape with transfiguration, use them in a fight, you could do many things. But that wasn't what that someone had in mind. He tried to play God. He had that idea to help them evolve, to make them human like, to create new, better, human being. So he picked wolves and went to work..."

"Why wolves?" Harry interrupted.

"They were like lab-rats are now." at this point he was used to hearing Salazar talk with references to modern world, information possessed from other inhabitants of the city. "There was a lot of them in the woods, and we could determine sick wolf from healthy one much faster than with rats. Rats were always regarded as plague-bearers. But where was I... Yes, he picked wolves and went to work. Potions, rituals, charms. I don't even know what exactly was used on them, but it didn't went as he planed. Yes, they changed, they gained intelligence, but as his work progressed they also became more violent. Maybe it was just that they saw what was being done to them, and they didn't liked it..." Salazar trailed off, while just staring back into space.

"I remember getting to the town where he lived, seeing all homes burning, every inhabitant of the town torn to pieces. Only him, the ambitious wizard, was spared, pined to place against his house wall, probably made to watch the entire thing."

"So, that's where werewolves came from?"

"In my times they were called Lycanthrope's, from Greek, language being quite popular with scholars of my time. But do you know from where comes the name you just mentioned?"

Harry thought a while, but eventually shook his head.

"Maybe it was just by chance, but when we were taking him out to heal him, someone asked the wizard who was experimenting on wolves "Who could have done such a thing" while looking at the slaughtered village. The wizard replied "Once... they were-wolves.". I guess no one really expected that that condition will spread..."

From that moment Harry understood why Ministry law, derived from old passages, named Werewolves as Dark Creatures first and foremost, not a person that they were throughout most of the month.

**END OF FLASHBACK**

* * *

"Do you mind?" a voice brought him out of his thoughts, and he saw Hermione struggling with her trunk. He quickly got up to help his friend, at the same time explaining that new professor will be travelling with them. But as he sat down, something brushed against his leg. He looked at the floor, only to come face to face with a cat that might have just run head long into a brick wall. Harry picked the ginger -coloured cat.

"Oh, that's Crookshanks. I bought him just this summer," Hermione piped in.

Harry settled the cat in his lap, and started petting it, only to be interrupted by a loud screech. Hedwig flown from her open cage to the seat next to Harry's, with her wings spread out and beak opened in threatening way. Crookshanks jumped off of his lap, sat in front of the owl, and run his paw over his head couple of times, like he was bathing himself. Hedwig settled down, and after looking at the cat for a while, flew to Harry's shoulder, and started rubbing her head against his cheek. As if on cue, Crookshanks jumped across the compartment and settled on Hermione's lap. Harry petted Hedwig, and couldn't stop but chuckle at Hermione's perplexed face.

"At last I won't be the only one," he said after a moment.

"The only one?" Hermione asked, still fighting her bewilderment.

"Everyone tells me how smart Hedwig is. Well, now you have an intelligent cat." Hermione just frowned at him.

"Come on, it's simple. Hedwig yelled at Crookshanks because I was petting him. He responded that he just want to be scratched. She showed him that I'm going to pet her first, so he replied that he won't bother me if she don't like it, because he still have you," Harry said with a smile.

Hermione thought about it for a while, then just shook her head.

"I didn't knew that your second name was Tarzan," she said, smirking.

"Me Tarzan, you Jane?" Harry replied, doing a poor imitation of the scene.

Hermione just huffed, but after a while "Jean," she grumbled. Of course, that just made Harry pretend to learn how to say her name, just like Tarzan did.

"But seriously. Reading animals isn't that hard." Harry said when the joke was beginning to get old. "And as for that talk about domesticated animals, sometimes I have a feeling that more correctly would be to say that Hedwig domesticated me." he said, and at that moment Hedwig reminded him that she was waiting to be scratched.

"So, what subjects did you pick?" Harry asked after a moment of silence. "But don't tell me that you took all of them." he added, smiling at his studious friend who blushed.

"I wanted to, but after some thought I scratched off Muggle Studies, since I don't need them, and Divination, since I'm going learn Arithmancy. My schedule will be full enough, and to take those two, Professor McGonagall told me I would have to..." she trailed off. "Well, it's just not worth it." she finished instead. "But what have you taken?" Harry somehow thought that she wanted to admit something, but didn't question it.

"I'm taking Care and Divination." Hermione just stared at him. "What?"

"Why are you taking Divination?" she asked, still staring at him incredulously.

"You know muggle superstitions. There is always some kind of story behind it all. Like, how walking under the ladder can bring you bad luck. It can just be associated, that there could be someone working on the ladder, and if you go under it, it is indeed a bad luck to get hit with a hammer, or can of paint that someone on the ladder could drop. Thinking of it that way, Divination is only form of wizarding culture studies that there is in Hogwarts at this moment."

That seemed to calm her down, but it wasn't entire truth about why he picked Divination. Once Divination was only way to predict future, and not because there was no other way. It was because once, it was as precise, or even sometimes better, as Arithmancy is now. While Arithamncy concentrate on picking out patterns and forming equations that work in every case, different forms of divination were formed to respond to one person, and one person only. The main reason that it wasn't working so well now, was because it was designed as a form of wandless magic.

Reading from hand, cards, tea-leaves, was affected by persons magical aura. Mage skilled in divination could swiftly read through problems that person had, cards or leaves being only medium to channel one form of magic into another. Crystall ball reading, was something closer to Arithmancy, because it showed the way energies were most probable to go. Chance so sure, that it nearly formed into something you could already experience. Oracles though, were something not quite understood, even now. It wasn't exactly known what triggered prophecies. Was it some deity, life energy of people affected, screaming through space and time, or just very powerful wizard capable of seeing into the future. What was known though, is that prophecies always appeared in times of distress.

But even if there wasn't many wizards who were capable of wandless magic, there were still signs in the world, small changes that hid itself in statistical error of Arithmancy, showing that something was coming. Words of Slytherin that "Wizards knew more than appeared on first sight" still rung in Harry's mind.

Some time after Hermione let him off the hook, Neville appeared in their compartment, closely followed by Luna, and once they settled in, it wasn't long before the train started its journey. It was uneventful, with small chitchat over snacks they bought from the food cart.

But at some point, the train came to abrupt halt, all lights went off. When the demon of Azkaban prison appeared, everything happened in an instance. It sucked up a deep breath, sending cold over everyone inside, and for Harry, time seemed to stop. He had that general idea that he was falling to the floor, although it seemed that gravity wasn't working right. As he was guarding his face from the strange coldness with his hands, he saw Magie standing between him and dementor, her arms spread wide, screaming at the thing to leave him alone. He was worried what might have happen to her, until he saw Lupin stepping into the picture, and send something silvery at the cloaked figure. At this point, Harry didn't knew if he was dreaming or still awake, because his hands seemed to glow faintly, something his slipping conciousness might mistake as a reflection from that silvery thing.

'No, I must be dreaming. Because if I'm not, that ragged dementor's breath have a slight melodic ring to it,' was the last thing Harry thought before darkness overwhelmed him.


	34. Depending on how you percieve it

People call me by a number of names, but J. K. Rowling isn't one of them...

* * *

AN. Like always, EnjoyEveryMoment is with me... NO! You can't have her! She's mine! All mine! My... preciousss...

EnjoyEveryMoment standing off to the side: *sigh* *shake head* "Just look at him... You give him a rusted key-ring and he goes nuts..."

* * *

He wasn't unconscious for very long, and after the "incident", the rest of the journey to Hogwarts went by in a flash. But it wasn't because of the speed of the train, or proximity to the end of their ride. It was mostly because Harry's mind was still occupied with what he saw.

Someone standing in front of him; a woman's voice, screaming. A dark silhouette. A flash of light. Silence. And finally, overwhelming darkness...

It must have been a dream. He couldn't come up with one situation he remembered that would play a part in this pattern. He must have imagined it, maybe had too much sugar than was healthy. But if so, why was he having that deja vu feeling revolving around exactly that chain of events?

He kept thinking about it, chasing the elusive answer, not paying attention to the rest of the ride, the sorting, the magnificent feast. His mind was buzzing even when he was in his four poster bed, still wondering if the vision was real or not. But when he fell asleep, his mind chose for him, mixing his thoughts with another dream that he couldn't remember when he awoke.

* * *

Harry woke up with that feeling that he had forgotten something important. Normally, he would just settle on waiting until it came back on it's own, but this time it just wouldn't leave him alone. It was like that kind of itch right in the middle of your back. You know that it's pointless to try and reach, but it's too infuriating just to not try and scratch it.

Fortunately, he found a distraction in the Great Hall, where he found himself walking out of habit. It seemed that Hogwart's gossip mill was working as efficiently as ever, because right when he appeared in the doorway, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit and there was a roar of laughter. Passing by, he caught on that it was supposed to be him, fainting, and just shook his head at Draco's lack of acting skills. He took his usual place at the Gryffindor table and busied himself with breakfast.

All around him, and not only at Gryffindor table, people were watching him, waiting for his response to the joke Slytherin's were enjoying at his expense. But it seemed that he was content in ignoring the whole affair. After a while, people started to exchange looks, some shrugging at his inaction, and one after another, they went back to their own food.

It wasn't until Pansy Parkinson started shouting at Harry that Dementors were coming, that he threw his fork on the table and stormed out of the Great Hall. It puzzled most people, and started another round of laughter in the group of Slytherin's. But whatever number of reactions was there when Harry made his exit, there was only one when the temperature in the room dropped just couple of minutes later. That reaction was horror.

It was early in the morning, not many people were in the hall, and none of the teachers. So everyone present stared in mute shock, helplessly sitting there as a dark form appeared at the threshold of Great Hall. Dark, long, ripped cloak. Loud, ragged breaths, bringing biting coldness with every second that passed. Everyone stopped breathing, watching as it glided along the Great Hall, stopping right behind Malfoy and his group of Slytherins, who were too terrified to even move. Figure rised its arm, and just at the moment when the sleeve was about to reveal that hideous, decaying hand, the shape doubled over, coughing. Whatever thoughts people present had had died instantly. Why would that demonic creature suddenly burst into a hysteric coughing fit?

It was answered when the cloaked figure got control of it's body again, and came up for a breath so suddenly, that the hood it was wearing came of, only to reveal... Harry Potter.

"Hi, I was wondering if by chance I haven't left my cough medicine here," Harry said in that wheezing, ragged tone of voice. "Had too many ice-creams," he added, while bending and retrieving a non descriptive canister from under Malfoy's seat.

"Thanks. Now I only need to get rid of those before another wave of first years will try to rip me apart," he said while opening his tattered robes, and all muggle-borns nearest to Harry quickly recognised a cool-box hanging near his stomach, from which cold vapours were oozing out.

Harry quickly got his skateboard, that now with his robes opened was visible, moving, and did a lap around the hall throwing real ice-cream at the tables, screaming "Ice-cream, ice-cream, we all scream for ice-cream," in that wheezing kind of voice. When he was gone, people slowly regained ability to think, looked at the ice-cream laying around the hall, and after they turned to still stupefied Slytherin's, burst out laughing so loud, that teachers came running, expecting some kind of disaster. For at least a while, no one could think of a dementor and not crack a smile.

* * *

Divination class brought confusion to Harry's mind. It looked exactly what he thought it would be. The look of a home of a mystical witch, with instruments for reading the future, at which point you would wiggle your fingers and widen your eyes. The teacher spoke in misty tones about the glimpses of the future that she obtained, making you feel like she shared a great secret with you. But when it came to educational values, it was a big pile of rubbish.

Even just a notion of PRECISE guide to reading signs of the future was absurd. How seeing one shape could determine your whole day, week or even month of life. If anything, it would be more precise to judge from whole set of signs, making out what exact situation came from that particular configuration. Even more, just watching pictures lacked context. It was like saying that every tree in the world made the same pattern on the surface of the earth when it's leaves were falling, without even mentioning different weather, air currents or topography. Another problem with just reading off pictures was with translation. Where one would see a dog, someone else would say it's a wolf. A hand can be raised in surrender or extended to grab something.

Yes, predictions were possible, but not the way Divination class proposed. It wasn't enough to sit with a book and simply change Sign A to Meaning A, Sign B to Meaning B and so on until meaning surfaces. Even Professor Sybill Trelawney herself, said that not many have gift in that particular field of magic.

Harry didn't knew what annoyed him so. Fumes in the classroom which were slowly making him sick. His inability to gather his thoughts. Reappearance of that feeling that there was something more important he should have been thinking about. Or that his teacher wasn't the most sober or sane person he had ever met.

It may be that it was all of those, and in retrospection, he might have overdid it, but when it was time for them to read a future from tea leaves, he looked in the cup he was holding, got that wide eyed expression on his face, jumped to his feet and begun running from one table to the other, frantically looking through the different cups.

"Child, what has gotten into you?" said Sybill Trelawney, correcting her shawls.

"I..." Harry started in a panicked voice, looking through cup he was holding. "I think we are in a immediate danger of an avalanche made of... marbles."

Everyone turned to him like he finally lost _his _marbles.

"Yes, yes... Go on child, don't stop, don't fight the signs..." Sybill was saying, going quickly to Harry's side, to look through his observations.

Unfortunately she haven't noticed that Magie hooked one of her shawls on one particular shelf. So, while she was rushing through the room, the shawl stopped her abruptly, and she ended laying on the floor. That tug was enough to tip the self forward, and dozens of crystal balls came falling forward, rolling through the room, catching the professor in it's flow, and carying her through the only exit from the tower. Everyone's jaws hit the floor at the exact moment when sound of Sybill Trelawney and couple of dozen crystal balls hit the landing under the classroom. Fortunately, Magie was kind enough to cushion that particular spot on the floor.

"Well, I must work on reading the scale of things," everyone turned to Harry who was still looking at the tea-leaves. "But if those weren't marble's," he said while twisting the cup, "I guess this isn't a toothpick either."

At that exact moment silver ladder leading up to the room unattached inself, and ended up laying on top of the pile.

* * *

Next class was transfiguration, with the hot topic of Animagi. He listened carefully, thinking it would be fun to try out with Magie, but what confused him was when Professor McGonagall transformed into a tabby cat. Moment's later she was herself again.

"What's the matter with all of you?" she begun, not understanding why no one paid attention pretty much from the beginning of the lesson. That of course sent entire class into a recollection of Divination they just had. While listening to it, Professor McGonagall settled into a grimace, something between scowl and smile, if there would be anyone to confirm what her smile looked like.

It was fortunate too, because that bit of distraction nicely covered his own, more private, conversation. Because there, at the front of the class, stood Magie, hand still raised, half extended. She was that way from the moment when the tabby cat appeared in the classroom.

'What is it?' asked Harry.

'I told you once already.' she responded, staring at her own hand, trying to understand.

Harry stopped, thought about what she might have told him, and moments later it hit him full in the face like a sack of Professer Trelawny's seeing balls.

'You felt like you could touch her?' All he got in response was a slight nod.

He too, just sat there, staring at her hand, because it was exactly like the other time. Only difference was that then it was with big black dog. But except of that, it was just like the other night... The night when he met Sirius Black.

* * *

The highlight of the day was Care of Magical Creatures class. At first, it was scary to think about Hagrid, with his love to dangerous animals, teaching a class. The hippogriff he provided wasn't too reassuring in this case. But with Hagrid's careful guidance, he got himself a ticket for a flight. Harry loved to fly. It helped clearing his head, leaving all his doubts on the ground, and concentrating only on the goal. The Snitch. This flight was more uneven that the one on a broom, and there wasn't a snitch to be caught, but still it was a nice flight, and companionship wasn't half bad.

Of course, once back on the ground, his troubles came back with a vengeance. So as he was standing there, petting Buckbeak, he could see Draco Malfoy pushing his way to the front. Harry just shook his head, thinking that the blond Slytherin just had to show what he was worth, after this mornings encounter in the Great Hall. Surely, nothing good would come out of his rash actions.

'Oh, Trippy!' he softly called in his mind.

Out of the bushes at the edge of the clearing bound a certain black cat, stopped at a slight rock not far from Harry, and started washing himself. Unfortunately for Draco, the rock was right in the path he was going, and he stumbled, falling face first into the earth, while the cat run off with a loud hiss.

The name for Magie's cat wasn't such a hard thing to produce. He would constantly loaf around someone's feet, trying to rub against their legs. From the moment he appeared in the town, number of cases including scrapped knees and hands was growing exponentially.

Everyone laughed at Malfoy's expense, since it looked like he tripped on simple rock. And so, whilst Hagrid got in his professor mode and hauled the blond Slytherin by the scruff of his neck, deducing points and handing out detention for disregarding teachers instructions, Harry just shook his head at the fate of the ill named cat.

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AN. Just a quick chapter to get through first day of class. If nothing will come up, next one should be as usual, somewhere in the weekend.


	35. Have fun with it

If at this point you still believe that I'm the owner of Harry Potter, you should go see a doctor and check yourself for mental illnesses.

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AN. Okay. Don't worry about me. I'm fine again. I was lucky that EnjoyEveryMoment was at hand to help me take my medications...

* * *

On their first Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson in the 3rd year, the entire class had to wait for the teacher. Sitting there, Harry had to ask about something he had missed earlier.

"Why exactly do we have a new teacher this year?" he asked the bushy haired girl beside him, scrunching his eyebrows together.

"Didn't you listen at all to the opening speech Professor Dumbledore made this year?" Hermione retorted, annoyed that Harry would so easily dismiss Headmaster's words.

"No, not really," Harry said sheepishly, making Hermione huff in exasperation. He could feel his cheeks redden slightly, but then again, did anyone apart from his bookworm friend really listen to the speech anyway?

"As the Headmaster said, "Lockhart's deed's for magical community are great, but his flamboyant teaching style does not do well for this tradition filled institution...". Then Professor Dumbledore introduced Professor Lupin."

"Flamboyant teaching style?" Harry asked, already grinning.

"Those scenes he made you do? Valentines day? That gigantic Easter bunny... Ring any bells?"

"Well, if a gigantic bunny would ring bells, I would certainly hear about that wouldn't I?"

Hermione had just enough time to slap him on the shoulder and hide her smile when Professor Lupin entered the classroom. To everyone's surprise and delight he announced that this would be practical lesson. If not counting that one class with pixies set loose, up until now they were taught Defence like little children are taught riding a bicycle, with their training wheels on. So everyone followed Professor Lupin, who was gaining their respect more and more, first swiftly dealing with Peeves and later having conversation with Snape and looking like he enjoyed it. Of course, Neville quickly changed his mind about their new teacher, when it was made known that he will be the one to go first against anything prepared for today. Moments later it turned out that they will be studying Boggarts.

The lecture went swiftly, with Professor Lupin asking questions, then adding more details and facts to students' answers. But when Harry answered question regarding why it's better to have company while encountering Boggarts, he had to ask one of his own.

"Professor, has anyone ever tried to put two Boggarts in one wardrobe or any other closed off space?"

Everyone stopped, with memories of Divination class fresh in their minds, not knowing if they would like it or not.

"No, I don't think so," Remus said after a while of thought. "But why would you do that?"

"Well, if they really take shape of whatever scares the other person off, we could observe what they would change to encountering each other. We would then know if every Boggart is the same, or each one is scared of different thing. Or maybe even we could see their real form..." Harry trailed off.

"Why would we see their real form?" Lupin asked, intrigued.

"Well, we know that they like dark places and run away from laughter. We also know that they take shape of anything that scares people away. But what if we're mistaken that it's a attack mechanism. Maybe it's a defensive one?"

"Go on." Remus said, indicating that he was following his train of thoughts.

"What if Boggarts aren't mean spirits trying to scare you to death, just an antisocial being wanting to be left alone and not liking being laughed at," Everyone present blinked, dumbfounded. "I mean, what if they actually look quite funny, and they don't like it, so they snap back at anyone laughing at them, and try to chase that person away. You know, like you're upset and don't want to see anyone, you hide somewhere to be all alone." No one had any comments, because surprisingly, it made a lot of sense.

"Well, I don't think anyone have ever thought about it like that before..." said Professor Lupin bringing everyone to here and now. "But since we don't know that, I still need to teach you how to defend yourself in case you encounter one." Then he went on to explain how to deal with Boggarts using simple spell and a little bit of imagination.

Neville didn't feel all that secure. He was meant to go first, and even if he was told what exactly he was meant to do, just dress Snape as his grandmother, he was too terrified simply thinking about Snape to imagine himself doing it in real. Harry seeing the state his friend was in, came to his side to exchange couple of quick words.

"Harry, I don't think I can do this," Neville said, while skipping from one foot to the other, like he was trying to run away while still staying in one place.

"What can't you do?"

"I can't go first. When I do something first, it always goes wrong..."

"Then be wrong," Harry said, and Neville only stared at him. "You know, when you see something scary, it's scary. But then people try to make it scarier, and add things to it. But at one point when you add one thing too much, go one step too far, it isn't scary any more. It's grotesque. It's simply wrong. Since you are wrong on your first try, it's a perfect occasion for you. Just remember that any mistake you do, will cause a laugh at Snape's expense."

At that exact moment Neville was called to the front of the class, and moments later Boggart was sent loose. Menacing form of Severus Snape came forth, but Neville was calmer, much calmer, and when the Potions Professor came closer, he simply raised his wand and said the spell. Snape stood there, wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag. Everyone laughed at the image, but it was when Boggart tried to imitate Snape silencing the class, it turned out that Neville truly took his gloves off.

"Quiet children. It will be impossible for you to learn anything with this noise, " the bogus Potions Master said in a voice fitting a chipmunk. After that, he made a perfect lecture in the art of ballet, going through five positions, covering demi and grand plie, with the grand finale of arabesque penchée and Fouetté en tournant. All done by Severus Snape speaking like a chipmunk and still dressed in Neville's grandmother's clothes.

People were doubled with laughter, some rolling on the floor with tears rolling from their eyes, but Boggart still kept going, compelled by magic to finish it's nearly 5 minute monologue supplied by Neville's mind. Even Professor Lupin was having so much fun that he nearly forgot to call another person.

Paravati was caught off guard being called to the front, but she managed to deal with her mummy. Everyone who followed had a while to ask Harry what he told Neville to do, and he simply repeated the same thing over and over again. Soon, entire encounter with Boggart changed to "Creepy Horror's Show" with everyone trying to make their own fear the main event.

Seamus Finingan instead of making the Banshee that appeared before him mute, he made her use Michigan J. Frog's voice to sing snippets from collection of his songs, "Hello, My Baby" being sung twice, thanks to the great applause of the audience.

Rats were made to do a real Rat-race, with miniature cars wheezing around proportional stadium, and rat announcers doing commentary in their squeaky rat voices.

A bloodied eyeball was thrown on roulette table, with everyone placing bets.

A severed hand trying to creep all over Dean had to wear a tuxedo and shoes while it did a tap-dancing performance.

A spider attacking Ron lost it's legs, it's carapace was entwined in it's own web until it ended as a smooth ball. What commenced was strangest football game in the world, with spider legs playing four on four, and fact that Ron still haven't caught on to all of the rules just added to the absurd, chaotic moment.

Remus Lupin stood of to the side, watching as the fun went along. At first thought, he was absolutely against letting Harry deal with Boggart. But now, watching what people accomplished thanks to his simple advice, he thought that Lord Voldemort being dealt with in a funny way could do more good than harm. So, when the Boggart-ball was kicked right in front of Harry, Remus stopped himself from intervening.

In fact, he wasn't the only one to stop. All laughter ceased, and everyone in the room stood still, watching Harry's worst fear. But they weren't scared, more confused. Even Harry himself haven't expected it. Spending time talking to others, he had no time to think about his worst fear. But whatever he might have come up with, was nothing like he was watching right now.

In the centre of the room, right in front of him, stood a girl, looking approximately eleven years old, with hear colour stuck somewhere between light brown and dark blond, and her sky blue eyes were fixed on his green ones.

"Hi, Harry." said bogus Magie.

It seemed to bring him out of his stupor. He quickly glanced around, and saw that everyone was watching the exchange, wondering why that girl would be Harry's worst fear. He couldn't believe that he found himself in this kind of situation, but still, he raised his hand, and so did she. But in the moment when they were about to touch, her entire body dissolved, ending as nothing more as a pile of dust.

While everyone wondered what was going on, he understood. He wasn't afraid of Magie. Not even scared that someone will know of her, since it was bound to be, no matter how far from now. But he was scared that when it will happen that someone will have a proof that it was a lie. Nothing more than his imagination, delusions, maybe some kind of mental disease, and even then it wasn't about him. He was scared that Magie might vanish for good. He was scared of loosing...

His musings were interrupted by a sound of vacuum cleaner. His head snapped up, only to see Magie strolling around with a vacuum cleaner, trying to clean up all the dust from the floor.

'Sorry for bothering you, but I'm trying to put myself together again,' he heard in his mind, and instantly knew that she was the real thing. 'Don't look at me like that, I know that at the moment I'm being...' she trailed off, snapping her fingers in annoyance that she forgot the word.

"Ridiculous," Harry said out loud with a slight chuckle.

It made the Boggart to reform itself as a Magie's doppelgänger, only to dissolve into another dust cloud when Magie came with a dust sweeper.

'Let's have some fun,' Harry said, at last coming out of his shock. Magie just grinned at that.

Everyone in the room understood less and less with every passing minute, as the Boggart spent next five minutes going through entire evolution process. At first being the girl, then sprouting wings and changing into a butterfly which in turn took shape of a colourful kite, then a plane,a bird, then chicken going backwards in time ending as an egg which was turned into an omelet... It went through more and more transformations as Magie and Harry played their mind ping-pong game. At some point Boggart couldn't keep up, and simply burst into a thousand tiny wisps of smoke, and was gone at the exact same moment when the bell rung. Everyone stood there, still staring at the place where Boggart was, as Harry just took his things and left.

Moments later Hermione and Neville went after him, but when they caught up to him, he was standing by window, just staring off in space. Maybe that wasn't most peculiar, since they could see him doing it quite a lot, but now they noticed something else. That look in his eyes that they haven't noticed before, and seen only on one other person. Luna.

"Harry?" Hermione said softly while coming closer and putting a hand on his shoulder. He blinked, shook his head, and the look was gone.

"Hmm?" he responded, stopping when he noticed how they were looking at him. "What?" he asked again, this time being more conscious of eye staring at him.

"What was that in... you know, in the classroom?" Neville asked. Hermione just stood there, observing him.

"I was checking something out."

"What exactly?"

"If Boggart changes into your worst fear, or what at the moment you think is your worst fear... It turns out you can change your mind." He said with a shrug, and went on ahead.

Neville and Hermione stood there, thinking that there was something more to it, but they didn't bother him with that. Still, Hermione kept thinking that even if Harry was telling the truth, it didn't explain the first thing that showed up, and why Harry would be taken aback by that little girl.


	36. Chapter 36

If you would answer Millionaire question about owner of Harry Potter series by giving my name, I tell you for sure that you wouldn't have won.

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AN. Existence of Harry's little Slytherin "inner agent" is all thanks to EnjoyEveryMoment. I might have wrote it, but she supplied the inspiration...

* * *

Harry had quite a few things to think about. Subjects differing from school-work and his friends to personal stuff, like having weird dream-like visions that he couldn't quite catch. That, or a crazed godfather who escaped from hell on earth and was out there, just waiting to kill him, being just few examples to mention. That's why he was doing trips all around the castle, just pacing the common room absolutely pointless in his mind, since it lacked purpose, and those walks across the halls gave him opportunity to learn exact places that were shown in Marauder's Map.

'So, what exactly do you know about animagi?' Harry asked during one of his walks. It was more than a week after Professor McGonagall's lecture that Harry remembered that he still had his mentor to talk to, so busy his mind was.

'As you know, as complicated form of life human being is, body is nothing compared to the chaos that is the mind. There are many way's to group the complexities, but let's concentrate on how people see their personalities. Examples are quite crude, never perfect, oversimplifying the problems, but for the sake of quick explanation, let's use one.' Salazar said, putting his updated knowledge to good use.

'Let's imagine that inside every human being live three people... at least three,' Slytherin added with a quiet chuckle. 'One is the person who someone think he is. Other is the person someone would like to be. Last one is the person that someone truly is. While the two first one's are known, the third one remains hidden, maybe never to be found. Animals on the other hand don't have to struggle with their own thoughts. When there is a danger, they simply react. Now, that third, hidden, person is you at your best, a person you become dealing with, maybe not dangerous, but life-altering situations. Animal you can change to is defined by that third person. Will you run, hide or strike back when confronted with danger, and in what way would you do it. Going step further with this knowledge, wizards can don the animal skin, further limiting their confused mind. But knowledge of yourself can be enough to help you follow your instinct, saving those precious moments distinguishing close success from devastating catastrophe.'

'I understand this far, but how...' Harry's question stopped at his lips, his thoughts vanishing to the back of his mind along with Salazar, just as he stepped into one of the new-found short-cuts.

The thing that stopped him in his tracks was not dangerous, or even especially sudden. It was just surprisingly uncommon in his life. A sound of quiet weeping, accompanied with sniffs resounding throughout otherwise silent passage. After a quick look-around, he could make out a small figure sitting on the floor, huddled under one of the walls. Coming closer, he could catch the form of a small girl in the dim light of the passage. She had blond hair and blue eyes, her face and physique would certainly change with age, but for now, one could mistake her for smaller version of Luna, maybe even a sister, if you took away some of Luna's unique attributes. The one mayor difference between them at this moment would be clothes, since this girl wore Slytherin colours.

"Hello," Harry said stepping a little closer, at which the young girl stiffened. "Just who might you be?"

Obviously she was startled at being found out, and it took her a while to make her tear stained face presentable again, but when she did and turned to respond, her eyes got as wide as saucers and she stuttered for a while before regaining her voice.

"Harry Potter..." she whispered, not believing her UFO shape eyes.

"Hey! I'm Harry Potter too! What a small world it is," Harry responded in his best jovial voice. For a while the girl frowned at him, and after remembering what he exactly asked, it turned into a scowl.

"That's not exactly funny, you know. I would rather call it... lame," she said, while scrunching her nose.

"Oh, pardon me if my kind of humour isn't to your liking, milady," he said with a slight bow. "Let me just ask then, what such a sunny spirit as yourself does in this kind of place?" This short speech actually got a slight smile out of her, before she heaved a deep sight and returned to her quiet self. Harry just settled himself under the wall across the girl.

"I don't like it here," she said eventually. Harry just sat there, giving her space, and after a while, she begun to tell about herself.

Her name was Rose Priming, a daughter of pure-blood witch and a muggle. She knew about magic from as long as she remembered, heard stories of a fabulous castle and wonders within. She dreamed of the time when she would travel to it and see it for herself. But nowhere in her fantasies was she sorted into Slytherin.

It wasn't like Slytherin was made only out of pure-blood's, student's of muggle upbringing weren't as uncommon as people thought it to be. But from whatever family people sorted into that house would be, they all shared pretty much similar mindset. They all were ambitious, ultimate power being their ultimate goal, and you could notice how sure they were they would achieve it, by how arrogantly they were acting.

That was the main problem Rose had with staying at Hogwarts. As many jokes there were about bold Gryffindors killing themselves off in duels, the really hate-filled house was Slytherin. Their constant struggle for dominance, calculative approach, moves done as to prolong the encounter so the enemy would be weakest and they at their strongest, doing nothing more than to postpone the final encounter indefinitely. That meant that every day you could feel the malevolence just hanging in the air.

"I'm not like that. I can't act like all of them, striding around, that constant pushing... I'm nothing of that kind." she said getting depressed, until she heard Harry chuckling quietly. "What are you laughing at?" she snapped, scowling again.

"I just thought that it's one of those situations when it's appropriate to say that "If Slytherin saw what was happening with his house, he would have rolled in his grave"," Harry said, and he certainly knew that sentence to be true. "But still, no one is "like everyone else". Each and every person have the same traits in them. It's just that they have more of one trait, and while it's on the forefront, you might not notice all those lighter shades. Okay, I even have an example for you. Neville and Hermione are two friends of mine, both sorted into Gryffindor, but they're completely different. To stay in House's terms, I would have to say that Neville is a Hufflepuff kind of Gryffindor. You know, he might not be best in everything, but he works hard to accomplish his goals and have his friends whenever he needs help. Hermione on the other hand is a Ravenclaw kind of Gryffindor. She studies a lot, have best scores you could imagine, and is curious about... well, everything. But they're not in Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively, which simply shows that they're braver than they are hard working or studious... which is quite scary as I'm now thinking about it." he said, shuddering at the image of brave Hermione or fierce Neville, if they would have to show their best..

"Then what would you be?" Rose asked after a while.

"Oh, I'm a Slytherin kind of Gryffindor, boldly pushing people around, spreading my evil ways... Hey! I might even be a Gryffindor-ish kind of Slytherin, being brave enough to go behind enemy lines, picking them off one by one..." he said, and did his best evil laugh.

Rose just snorted. "Yeah, you being Slytherin. Right! It's well known that you hate Slytherin's."

Now it was Harry's time to snort. "And who told you that I hate Slytherins? I mean, some of the Hufflepuffs annoy me more than they do... at least a snake has some dignity, but a badger? And the way they sing "I'm walking on sunshine"... It's just sacrilege. " he said in a pompous kind of voice.

"Yeah, yeah," she dismissed his performance with a wave of her hand. "But you know, people talk..."

"No, I don't know. And do I know any of those people?" Harry asked, switching to being completely confused.

Rose stared at him for a while. "Okay, maybe people are wrong," she said with a shrug. "But that stunt you did the first day, or stories of you and Draco..."

"You omitted one important detail. I don't make fun of people as long as they don't come looking for trouble. If only Draco learnt once and for all to stay away... but if he's asking to make a fool out of himself, then why not help him along? And that means I don't like _that _particular Slytherin..." he responded.

"Another thing you forget is that House of Slytherin have other traits than ambition. So, tell me Little Miss Sunshine, are you cunning?" he asked. She shrugged indifferently, but a slight smile played on her lips, and that mischievous glint in her eyes told another tale altogether. "I thought as much."

Harry looked at her for a while, just thinking about their entire talk.

"You know, I think you will be perfect for House of Slytherin," he said eventually.

"How so?" she asked, watching him curiously.

"Just think about it. You _are_ cunning, but not power hungry. That means that you can be most dangerous member of that House. While everyone else will be at their throats, fighting for dominance, you can play with their minds all you want. You can do practically anything you want, because you don't want to achieve anything beside just practice of your cunningness."

Rose just grinned more with his every word, quickly growing fond of the idea of staying in the castle. They talked for a while more before noticing the time. When they went their separate ways, Harry had just one more thing to tell her.

"Go give them hell."

* * *

Harry told Hermione and Neville about his encounter with the first year Slytherin, and they didn't even pester him about it beside Hermione's comment that it wasn't the only first year girl that he convinced to stay at the castle for just a while longer, which left Harry puzzled. Soon, they all begun to grow fond of her, as she would meet them here and there, always just for a scant amount of time, enough to exchange couple of words, but not to be spotted. It almost seemed as she would be a bird in flight.

By chance, one of those exchanges happened when their group was walking from library, and Ron couldn't help but notice it.

"What are you doing with that Slytherin?" he asked as soon as Rose was gone.

"Talking. Why you ask?" Harry asked, surprised at Ron's agitation.

"Because Slytherin's are evil!" he nearly hissed.

"Why would all of them be evil?"

"Because, you know, they're in Slytherin." Ron responded like it was obvious. By now they had gotten to the Great Hall and had taken their places.

"So, Slytherins are evil because they're Slytherins?" Harry just shook his head. "Ron, people aren't that simple. Labels are good for cans, at most. And I don't see cans put on those benches," he finished while glancing around the Hall. When he looked at Ron again, he was quite busy stuffing his face. Harry sometimes wondered if those things that Ron chose to ignore reached him at all.

* * *

Even if Ron didn't listen to reason, he had to acknowledge the reality, and reality, not even full month into the term, was that Snape stopped targeting only Harry. He came to the conclusion that if he can't be biased towards one student, he can always get him if he treated every other student in the school the same way. Obviously, he couldn't openly insult everyone, so now, everyone in the school had to suffer extremely difficult level of potions. Most of all, Slytherin's suffered the treatment, their protective Head of House gone in one second, just to be replaced by the spiteful tyrant that the whole school had to live with all along. But more concerning Harry, he had to suffer Ron's never-ending whine's.

"You have to be kidding me. It's not an essay, it's like we have to write a whole book about this potion. If only Snape..."

"Professor Snape," corrected Harry, not even looking up from his notes.

Only when he noticed that Ron's monologue had mysteriously stopped did he look up, just to notice that everyone else was staring at him. "What?" he asked, confused.

"You just told me to call Snape Professor," Ron repeated, dumbfounded.

"Yes. I know. I was here when it happened," responded Harry.

"But you annoyed him so much," added Neville.

"So?" asked Harry, still not understanding what was their problem.

"I think that what they're trying to ask is, why after all the disrespect you have shown, you still call him Professor," Hermione summed up, with even Luna nodding her head, showing that she too would like to know that.

"If you would achieve something great, let's say win some kind of international tournament, would you appreciate it if people refereed to you as a champion, winner, best, or any other honorary title that comes with your achievement?" Harry started, setting his notes aside for a while, while others nodded that it would be nice.

"But even if there is a lot of fields you can compete in, not everyone can be first. Still, everyone have their own triumphs throughout their life. That's where titles come in. You don't wake up one day and become a professor. While you can teach what you know to others, to be a professor you need to know more than basic school material. It takes years of additional studying, hard work, sometimes even research and having your own discoveries. Professor is more than master in his given field. But it isn't a single case scenario. Let's say that everyone can cook, at least a little, but you don't call random person standing in the kitchen a chef. Like with professor, chef is master when it comes to cooking. He knows what taste good, what fit together well, how to prepare food as to not spoil the ingredients. Another example. We call specialised type of trained people officers of the law. They aren't simply another type of neighbourhood watch. Or we call lawyers counsellors. I think nearly every occupation have a title attached to it, or should have. It all comes down to respect. Having set of skills that not many other people can say they posses is certainly something you can take pride in, and people having those skills should be respected for their achievements." Harry stopped to take a deep breath, and let it sink in.

"So, even if Professor Snape is a greasy git who can't pass his knowledge on, he still deserves his title for the work he did to achieve this level of knowledge, however small it might be," Harry said, and after a while of thought, he added. "Besides, calling him Professor is certainly better than the alternative."

Everyone looked puzzled, so he answered their unasked question.

"You know, as his students or apprentices in older days, we would have to call him Master Snape."

There was a large shudder passing through everyone present at that statement.

"Okay, fine, cute and all." Ron started again, showing one more time his inability of listening to reason. "But still, it's too much work. Can't we take a break or something?"

Now he was the centre of attention, as everyone stared at him like he questioned existence of the earth.

"It's a study group, not a classroom. No one tied you to your chair. If you have something better to do, you can go any time you want," Hermione answered for the rest of the group.

Ron instantly perked up at the chance of getting away from school-work, and immediately grabbed his things, rushing to the door. Only when he was at the end of the lane did he stop and look back at everyone still scribbling down their notes.

"Aren't you guys coming?"

"No, thanks. If we won't finish this now, we won't have any other occasion to gather everyone in one place," Hermione said over collective, obvious and very loud for such a small group, "No".

Ron's ears immediately reddened. In his mind's eye he saw them, sitting there, disregarding him as something insignificant, nearly saying out aloud "We don't need you, so get going...". As soon as he finished that thought, he stormed off. Not that others paid any mind to his little temper tantrum.

That vision kept repeating itself in his mind, but when he slammed the library door behind him, it was like someone snapped their fingers right in front of his face, and he regained enough conciousness to notice other side of things. They didn't need him. It wasn't that they disregarded him. It was just while they were working, he just sat there waiting for finished set of notes. Others had their jobs. Even Luna fitted into their working habit's without a pinch.

While Neville's questions tied new theories with what they already knew, Luna with her imagination would constantly ask if particular spell could be used to do something else, proposing how it could be changed or upgraded. She skilfully guessed what could be next step if that spell would have to evolve, even when it came to material a whole year ahead of her. Their teacher certainly appreciated that approach. Even her wacky comparisons helped, keeping everyone entertained.

Hermione, Neville, Harry, even Loony Luna. Every single one of them had their purpose in their group. But him? Ron Weasley? What have he been doing all this time? It indeed was true. They simply didn't need him.

* * *

While Ron was contemplating things right outside library doors, Neville had a question of his own.

"Harry? Why do you spend so much time in the library? You know, for your additional reading. Like Ron said, we already have lots of work."

"Look around Neville, and tell me what do you see."

Neville took one glance across the library and said the most obvious thing.

"Books?"

"And what's in the books?" Neville just shrugged. "Knowledge," Harry supplied with a smile.

"But we learn a lot in class."

"Yes we do. But studying from books and studying in class is only different because of the teacher. Even then, teacher have limited amount of time to answer questions and doubts. But if you understand particular subject exceptionally well, why should you wait for others? Why not learn it yourself? If you learn it faster, you have more time for subjects you don't do so well, or even can help the teacher with explanations during the class. And of course, above any other practical reason, there is that joy in knowing something new about topic you take pleasure from." Harry answered, returning to his notes.

Neville took one more look around the library, and couldn't find any reasons not to stay with others for some additional reading. And so, he slumped down in his seat and picked up Hogwarts; A History, in case Professor Binns decided to keep the routine the same, and not say anything interesting in class.

* * *

AN. If you want to complain that I stopped describing animagi somewhere in the middle of the sentence, well, I ask you to be a little patient. I have more on the subject, just don't know where would be right place to put it. So, sit back, and wait just a little bit longer. It will come up... eventually...


	37. Chapter 37

Compare the length of my chapters to the ones in Harry Potter series, and make your own conclusion... Just make it right.

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AN. Sorry for not much of a chapter, but I have a lazy streak, and even EnjoyEveryMoment can't do anything with this one.

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A couple of days after such events, Harry and his friends were enjoying relatively sunny weekend, sitting on the castle grounds and discussing... well, everything. But even if world seemed to be suspended in a standstill, with sun fighting against dark stormy clouds from which no rain came down, and grassy fields not being disturbed by even slightest breeze, Harry just couldn't stop being himself.

"What's bugging you this time?" asked Hermione, noticing the state her friend was in. She always knew when somebody was upset; that just came with the job prescription of being Hermione. That, and preferring the library to a house party and bossing people around, older than her or not.

"It's... you know, even if Ron spent some time with us, it was too easy for him to spot Rose joining our group. If he could do it, anybody else can, given they pay attention... Heck, they could even stumble on it by chance. I don't really care people seeing me with her, but the state Slytherin House is in right now, with everyone knowing she's even somewhat close with me, it wouldn't be so easy for her to... hide." Harry stopped, because certain thought occurred to him.

"Luna, sweetness..." He turned to his other friend, who was again wearing her strange sunglasses and danish-looking hat, even though there was enough sunshine that you could barely call it "shaded" rather than "sunny" day. He also noticed Neville, dozing off on the other side of Luna.

"Yes, honey?" she asked, fishing a jar with aforementioned substance from a picnic basket sitting nearby.

"No, I'd rather go for jam," Harry answered, and shortly after the three of them begun to prepare their rolls.

"But what I was trying to ask is," he continued between bites, "what happened to our smallest friend?"

Luna smiled at him, and after cleaning her mouth with a napkin, she stuck two fingers in her mouth and gave a strange, melodic kind of whistle.

"What was that?" Harry asked after she stopped.

"Oh, just wait for it," Luna said offhandedly, continuing her roll.

Harry sat there, staring, waiting, and waiting, and waiting... and in the exact moment he lost his patience that something is going to happen, he got whacked in the head with something strange.

As it was, due to school work or necessity to sleep, Luna haven't always had the time to play with her plushy friend. The toy on the other hand, couldn't help but to feel a little adventurous... all the time. So it made journeys around the castle, picking quest so dangerous as to, for example, climb on that high, high windowsill without falling. Of course windowsill was barely waist high, but due to the scale the toy was made in, it was quite a challenge.

That state of affairs, Luna and her friend not being together at all times, required a way for them to find each other. Thus the whistling call. Of course, for the toy, it was only another game, find it's owner as fast as it could. This time, while it barrelled through the grassy field all the way from the castle, it had that grand idea to do a surprise attack on one of it's masters companions. Of course, the case of being only a plush toy surfaced again, and instead of toppling Harry to the ground and ending victoriously on top of him, it stopped on his cheek, looking like a trapeze artist who ended on a pole.

Harry picked the toy, which was wagging it's short tail like it executed it's plan spot-on, and couldn't help but notice a new addition.

"What's with the cape?" he asked while pointing at the fluffy blanket strapped to the toy's shoulders.

"Well, she sneezed all the time, so I thought she might be cold. She seems to like it, if the poses she make in front of the mirror are anything important," Luna responded from her spot, where she was, at the very moment, suntanning, even though import of sunbeams haven't increased over the last 5 minutes.

Harry stared at the toy again, thinking about the cape. When he enchanted the toy, he didn't thought about adding additional things to it, and haven't had slightest idea how to incorporate new thing to enchantments that were already in place. So why the toy itself could do it on it's own, even enabling the blanket to vanish from sight? Harry thought about it a while, and came to the conclusion that it had something to do with the enchantments them self. The toy protected itself from everyone who wanted to do it harm... But then again, Harry hadn't exactly specified what kind of harm it could be. If the toy thought that someone stealing it's things was harmful, surely it needed to protect them. And what would be better way to make sure they are safe than taking them with you?

"Luna, could I borrow your friend for a little while?" Harry asked after a while of thought.

"If she says yes, then you can. She has enough of free time as it is, she'll bound to be looking for some adventure sooner or later."

Harry stared the toy in the eyes, even though it still was wiggling in his hands.

"You want to play a game?"

The toy elephant stopped moving and regarded him with head tilted to the side.

Harry smiled and told how he was in need of a brave man... elephant... toy... That he needed someone brave to sneak into the most dangerous place in the castle without being spotted, and deliver some things.

The toy blew it's trunk and started wiggling again, which was enough of a yes to Harry.

After some more improvements in toy's attire, a valiant hero was born. Seizie the Brave, best Postman-elephant in the world, boldly going where no toy went before.

Rose surely will be surprised to see something like that sneaking through Slytherin Common Room.

* * *

AN. Seriously, I can't concentrate on writing right now... So, as not to torment you all with scraps of what-could-be-chapters I think I'm going to give myself a writing free Christmas. If you want another real chapter, it's easy. All you have to do is to cancel Christmas...


	38. Chapter 38

I wish I could be J. K. Rowling right now, because I could go straight to writing this chapter, rather than bother with disclaimers.

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AN. Sorry it took so long. EnjoyEveryMoment had the difficult task of putting me to work again after the New Years Eve...

* * *

The weekend ended, and the standstill that the world seemed to be in changed into a mad rush, while days were just passing by. But even when the world turned into one big blur, there were some changes that you just couldn't omit.

After that first Divination lesson, the tradition of Professor Trelawney predicting one of the students death was broken, because now she was more concerned about her own life. Her own knowledge of fatal signs and omens could be enough to make her worried, but we can't forget that Harry was there to lend a hand.

While Professor Snape was a spiteful man who couldn't talk to you for five minutes without pointing out everything he thought was a flaw, he still knew his art and was remarkable potion brewer, thus deserved at least a little respect. Professor Trelawney on the other hand, while seemed to know all the omens and signs by heart, had obviously no idea how they were tied together, or what was relation between them and the conditions they have revealed themselves.

Given that, all Harry had to do was to sit there, and in the right moment find interesting something like crack in the glass of the window, an uneven rock in the floor, or even a particular length of blank wall, and Professor Trelawney would do the rest, seeing death, destruction, disaster, and everything else she was predicting for students, threatening her from every corner of her own tower.

For the rest of the class, it looked like she was jumping as far as she could from the place that Harry was currently looking at, and remembering the very first class, they just couldn't stop thinking what he knew, and they were missing.

Another such change was with Care of Magical Creatures, and to everyone's relief, this was to ensure students' safety.

After that first class with Hippogriff, on his next visit, Harry spent some time talking with Hagrid about his class. Being the one to interact with Buckbeak, he certainly couldn't complain about the lesson, even given that initial fear. He also knew that Hagrid couldn't be persuaded about "those misunderstood creatures" that people called dangerous. Instead, he concentrated on pointing that Hagrid already knew how to tame them, and it would be better to let students slowly get used to things with sharp teeth and claws. Having recent picture of Draco nearly disrespecting a Hippogriff, it wasn't long before Hagrid could see his point.

From that point on, lessons were proceeding in similar way as Hagrid was taught, when he was still training to be a Gamekeeper. All of the class would stay behind the fence, taking notes, and Hagrid would call them one by one to come inside and present some kind of animal-handling technique, while he gave lecture to the entire class from nearby, from where, if something went wrong, he could easily distract or tackle the animal, giving the student time to get to safety. So, even if in class they sometimes encountered animals more dangerous than they would like to, it was entirely different with mountain of muscles guarding you, and knowing working techniques how to handle them yourself, certainly eased everyone's mind. And even if it wasn't deep in the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid felt somewhat sentimental about that one-on-one, student-teacher interaction.

Even if Care of Magical Creatures was a little too exciting for some, they quickly forgot about it after coming to Defence Against the Dark Arts class. After the story of Harry's class Boggart lesson travelled around the school, everyone couldn't wait for their next opportunity to watch Professor Lupin's laid-back-style of teaching. Of course, lesson's haven't suddenly changed into one non-stop party, but still, students had so much fun just going along Professor's instructions, that they haven't even noticed how easily they could remember the essential information regarding the lessons topic.

There were some, mainly Draco with his gang, who still found something to complain about, but Harry related that to the fact that it became obvious that what earlier was called "elite" of the school, now wasn't looking so good in class. Harry also couldn't help but notice that sometimes Professor Lupin would watch him, maybe just a little too intently for it to be just teacher watching his pupils progress...

When it came to changes that you just couldn't omit, the first place this year would have to take Potions classroom. Seemingly, nothing have changed. Students still took ingredients from the store room, made their potions by following the notes from the blackboard, gave samples of their product at the end of the lesson, and received horrible scores for their brews. By that description alone, you could say that nothing have changed. But again, that description haven't included the Potions Master, who this year seemed to be... distracted. First time anyone noticed that, was when there was no reaction from him when the story of Boggart-Snape teaching ballet circulated around the school. From that point, people noticed major change.

Before, he would give them instructions, then spent all the lesson making everyone feel miserable. Now, he would give them instructions and without a spoken word make it clear that he wanted to be left alone. Seeing his maniacal expression while he sat behind his desk, staring at a blank piece of wall and muttered to himself, no one objected to that, and soon, Potions became much more student friendly class.

Soon everyone noticed that without Snape hanging over their heads, watching their every move and insulting everything they've done, they could concentrate better. And since he wasn't paying attention to them, they could freely talk and exchange pointers among each other. That, and the fact that Slytherins couldn't do whatever they wanted without their Head of House protection, eliminated accidents during class practically to zero, and those that happened, were no more than a cloud of smoke. On one occasion, someone pointed out that since Potions became "mandatory study group" they understood more from it.

Slytherins on the other hand, couldn't understand the change of heart, or the bad scores they now received. As it was, while earlier Snape gave them higher scores, now he didn't pay attention to anything, and just filled minimal passing grade from top to bottom, giving a plus every couple of spaces, all the time muttering what would be a good way to torture a werewolf...

* * *

Given the amount of classes Harry had to attend, homework he had to do, study group he and his friends held regularly, and Quidditch training which Wood made so much murderous than before, just to help them remember that it was his last year, Harry sometimes found himself not minding small things, like...

"Where would you like to go in Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked one evening, while they were resting in the common room after one particularly hard day.

"Hmm?" Harry responded intelligently, being shaken half awake. He centred his glasses, and attempted to flatten his hair.

"Hogsmeade. Where would you like to go?" Hermione asked again, her words mumbled from the pen in her mouth as she rearranged her papers.

"When is it?" Harry asked, still not fully awake, looking around for a clock to make sure what time it is, completely forgetting the one on his wrist.

"It's on Halloween. Everyone in the school is talking about it. Haven't you noticed?" she asked, only now lifting her gaze to watch him, and laughed lightly at the state he was in, while he tried to shake his head. "So, where would you like to go?"

"Must we go?" he asked while rubbing his eyes. Harry sighed, looking on as Hermione's gaze narrowed at him.

"Has anyone ever told you that it's rude to answer a question with a question?" Hermione chastised him, scowling.

"You just did it yourself," Harry pointed out, making her huff in exasperation. She blew a strand of hair away from her eyes, and tilted her head at him. "Besides, a question can be an answer too." This gave him her full attention again. "Because it isn't important to answer every question, you just need to answer the right one, for all the others to be obvious, or at least not important."

"So, what is the right question in this case?"

"Well, I asked if we must go to Hogsmeade, so you should ask..." Harry stopped, staring at her intently.

"Why don't you want to go?" Hermione supplied.

"Yep, that should be the right one," Harry said after a while of thought, rubbing last bits of sleep out of his eyes. Hermione just shook her head. "So, you hear all those good things about Hogsmeade. That it's fully magical village, have those amazing things to see, so much history, and all that... But while you think about it, with Hogwarts so close, so many stores in the village, doesn't it seem like a shopping district?"

"Well, you could say that," Hermione said with a nod, putting down her book and focusing on her friend.

"Okay, so there are some things you can do there. But think why you shouldn't go."

"I can see that you have it all planed out, so I'm not going to entertain you. Stop stalling and just speak your mind." she said, annoyance clear in her voice, which made Harry smile.

"Okay, okay... Remember that this is first trip this year, and now try to imagine it. While some from the older year students may stay as well, everyone from our year will probably go. With older students, lets say that two to three times that many people will go. In shops you will have to wait in long lines, you won't see much of town because of the people in the streets, and if it will be cold or even raining, any café or bar will be crowded... As I said before. Hogsmeade seems like a shopping district, so imagine a mall on a busy weekend."

Hermione thought about it, and could agree that it wasn't the same image that she had before.

"Great, now you ruined it for me. Now you have to fix it. When will be good time to go to Hogsmeade?"

"Around Christmas."

"Why Christmas?"

"Because if you go an hour or so later than everyone else, they should get cold and hide in a bar. Those who will see that there are no places left, will probably come back sooner. When we'll arrive it should be less crowded, with houses decorated for Christmas, snow laying everywhere... And when we will get cold, people who were in the bar should be gone too..."

Now that was a picture Hermione could enjoy. Having a town taken straight from a Christmas card all for themselves.

"I can work with that. But what will we do when everyone leaves?"

"I was thinking about Luna, since she can't go anyway, and her small, fluffy friend, and..." Harry left it hanging. Hermione's brow furrowed for a while, then she smiled.

* * *

Rose was sitting in Slytherin common room, observing her surroundings. She was doing it a lot lately. All those things she saw earlier, people striding around acting superior, those jabs to score a point at a non-existent board and be placed higher in the hierarchy no one spoke about, even those gentle signs indicating someone was just pretending... maybe an alliance of smaller players to topple a bigger fish and split the influence. All was there, but since that little chat she had with Harry, everything changed from threatening, to interesting.

To use a comparison, people say that everyone is just a little cogwheel in a bigger machine. If it was true, then Slytherin common room was like a giant clock, where every part tried to be more important, ultimate goal being the face of the clock, gaining all the praise while everyone worked for you. Of course, as competitive Slytherins were, in this particular cock, every part was working it's own way. Earlier she was just a small cog, left alone to be bullied by higher players, to be put in her place and do her work for them. Now she felt more like a grain of sand, just watching where to put itself to screw everyone big time, while she fell safely on the other side of machinery once it fell apart. To do that, she had to know where to be, and when to get out of there to stay out of the harms way.

Rose was sitting there, contemplating things, when she noticed certain thing. By now it she was somehow familiar with it, but it was quite a surprise to see a elephant-looking toy wearing a uniform with crests of other houses, sneaking through the common room... Well, if you could call what it was doing "sneaking". Walking slowly, with back pressed to a wall, while in full view, wasn't the stealthiest action Rose ever seen. Well, until she saw that it scrambled on top of the couch only to walk on the narrow headrest, while people still were sitting there.

But, surprisingly, no one seemed to notice. For a while, she thought that she might be imagining it, what with an enchanted castle. But then the toy finally got to her, and took a letter from a bag you would most likely see on a postman.

The letter was from Harry, explaining that the toy, Seizie he called it, would be best way to communicate, and that she shouldn't pay attention to it's weird antics. The toy was spelled to be invisible to anyone who meant it harm, and since it was carrying "super secret plans for destroying the Slytherin dominion in Hogwarst... *insert evil laughter here*"... Rose just shook her head at the memory of that letter, and reminded herself that it wasn't only the toy's crazy antics she shouldn't be paying mind to.

The toy finished it's crazy dance across the room, delivered it's usual letter, and surprisingly, a small gift box as well. Rose read the note on the box which said:

"Read the letter first... Damn, too late," Rose just had to roll her eyes. "Be prepared to get more of these. Inside the envelope are instructions what you should do with them when the coyote will howl under the tree which at noon cast a shadow of a squirrel... or when I write you it's time. Do not fail me... *insert evil laughter here*"

Rose snorted at the note, then chuckled at the instructions, and couldn't wait until it would start.

* * *

It was Halloween, first Hogsmeade weekend just finished, and Draco Malfoy wasn't pleased. He just came back from the village, where he had to wait in mile-long lines in every shop, frozen all over because there was no free space at the Three Broomsitcks, and got drenched when it started to pour a freezing rain when he was returning to school. Unbeknownst to him, it wasn't the end of his bad luck.

He was heading to his dorm to get changed to something dry and worm, so he could at least enjoy the Halloween feast. He was at the door to the common room, gave the password, and was suddenly blinded by a radiant light. He stood there, blinded, not understanding what was going on, when suddenly interior of the common room became clearer, as the white hue disappeared from the front of his eyes.

The common room looked nothing like it used to, the change from dark and unlit to white and bright being responsible for the initial shock. The dark look vanished, being replaced by white, soft yellow, and even pinkish tones. Dark green leather sofas turned to red seats which were forming booths against the walls, and in the middle, there were tables. While slowly walking into the room, he noticed other students who came from Hogsmeade earlier, looking around the room with as much bewilderment as he was feeling. Then he noticed the most prominent change. Right in front of the fireplaces, there stood a long counter, with mannequins dressed as a cashier, and further back, right in front of the fire, two more dressed as cooks.

Of course, Draco couldn't know that, since he never have seen a muggle cook, or was in a muggle shop to recognise a cashier, but he probably got an idea that the Slytherin common room, at the moment was exact replica of a muggle diner. If not, sign above the counter saying "Eel diner" was a big clue.

"Eel?" Draco said to himself, never before encountering the word.

"Yes, sir. Best eel meals in Hogwarts. Our display specimens are on your right. Would you like to order now?" said a little plastic man with an oversized head, standing right by the door.

Draco turned to the right as told, and after seeing what swam in a fish-tank standing by the wall... "EEW!"

"Stew for you, sir. Would you like to order something else?" said the little plastic man with an oversized head.

"Of course not!" Draco snarled.

"Loaf of coarse snot. I'll add that to your order. Something to drink?"

"Screw you!" Draco screamed in exasperation. His eyes were starting to bulge, and he seriously considered reaching for the wand in his pocket.

"Two screwdrivers coming up. To receive your alcoholic beverages, you are required to show your ID at the counter. Thank you, and have a nice day."

While Draco pulled his hair out, Rose grinned more, her smile getting bigger with every new "customer".

* * *

AN. Yeah, I know that Eel isn't a type of snake, but I just couldn't think of anything else. Also, another chapter should be out shortly.


	39. Chapter 39

I once thought that being a celebrity was too much bother for me to do it, but I think I see at least one merit in being an author like J. K. Rowling... That is, leading a Disclaimer-free life.

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AN. This chapter should have been out yesterday, but EnjoyEveryMoment and I were fighting with our profiles not working as well as they should. Anyone else have problem with theirs?

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During the Halloween feast that evening, many noticed that practically no one at Slytherin table ate any food. They would just sit there, shifting their gaze between the dishes and shuddering from time to time. After Professor McGonagall nudged him out of his thoughts, which were obvious to anyone paying attention, given his repeated tries to make his meal integrated with the plate and him staring daggers at the current DADA teacher, Professor Snape grumpily went to investigate. After no more than one sentence from his students he gave an irritation-filled-grunt, and stormed out of the Great Hall, leaving everyone ever more puzzled about what might have happened.

An hour or so after the feast was done though, entire school had another mystery to solve. Sirius Black was seen in the castle. Everyone was directed back to the Great Hall for the night, something Slytherins seemed to be immensely grateful for. But even with that large of a forum, with so many people raising possibilities, no one had any idea how could he have done that. Harry, on the other hand, thought about entirely different question. The one he knew to be the right one. Not how, but why...

* * *

"There's no point hiding it from you any longer, Potter. I know this will come as a shock to you, but Sirius Black—"

"-Is said to be after me," Harry finished for his Head of House.

Professor McGonagall seemed very taken aback. By now Harry knew that she called him to explain the situation and why all those teachers who were now following him everywhere were needed for his own protection. But now, when she heard that he knew about it all along, she just stared at him.

"May I know from where you know that?" the Transfiguration Mistress asked after a while for thought, processing the chaos in the school, and why it had grown to a complete halt when she looked at the raven-haired boy, who seemed perfectly at ease.

"There are interesting newspapers in the archives of Daily Prophet, and receiving them is even included into your subscription," Harry stated, at which his Head of House sighted, hanging her head. "But you misunderstood me Professor," that gave him her full attention again, "Sirius Black is said to be after me, that's what I said. But I meant that everyone assume he is after me."

"Well, of course he is after you. After what—what... you probably know what had happened. Why would you think he is here for anything else than..." Professor McGonagall stopped, uncomfortable with this train of thought.

'Yes, give it to her, Sherlock,' Magie cheered, appearing dressed in her Watson costume. Harry just smiled slightly, turning back to his Head of House.

"I think it strange that he would be here, and tried to attack exactly during Halloween feast," Harry begun.

"He is on the run. I can hardly imagine that he keeps track of the day..." Professor McGonagall tried to dismiss, only to be interrupted by Harry.

"He wouldn't have to," he said, and Transfiguration teacher frowned at him, "I know he was a student here, but even if he wasn't, on the Halloween day, the air is filled with smell of pumpkin pies, and the halls are looking so nice because of the..."

"Decorations," McGonagal said with wide eyes, and Harry just nodded.

"He should know that it's Halloween, that there will be a feast, that students would travel in groups to and from the Great Hall. Why would he try to attack a group of students, some of them in their seventh year..."

"I understand your argument, but you can't expect that a madman..."

"Who is the only person to escape from Azkaban, travel across country to Hogwarts, successfully avoiding the search parties for couple of months now, have any survival instincts?" Harry asked, his Head of House frowning harder with his every word.

"But...but, that..." Minerva McGonagall found herself at a lack of words, and after she shook her head, she looked straight at Harry again. "What are you saying exactly, Potter?"

"I'm not saying anything. I was just thinking. If he knew that it was Halloween, that everyone will be at the feast..."

"What could he want in an empty dormitory?" McGonagall finished for him.

"Yes, Professor. That would be something I would want to know."

* * *

Even if Professor McGonagall agreed that he had a valid point of view, she still wouldn't relent in teachers accompanying him everywhere. Still, Quidditch practice under guard of Madam Hooch was far better than no practice at all, as was the initial idea. And even if, officially, she couldn't help the team in their training, that haven't stopped her from dropping pointers here and there. "Among fellow sportsmen," she would say, before making an off-hand comment about some flying technique or another.

Harry enjoyed his Quidditch practices, even when Wood would drone for hours about tactics, nearly lulling them to sleep, just to mangle them half to death with the practical part of his theories. He enjoyed it so much, not because he came close to loosing it, but because in days that followed, flying on his broom was the only time that he was absolutely free. No one really chained him "for his own protection", but that feeling of eyes following him everywhere he went, preventing him from doing some things he enjoyed, like helping Rose with her "assignment", or even visiting a certain old snake residing deep under the school, which he haven't done in a long while.

He couldn't even use his new found knowledge of schools hidden passageways without anyone noticing, which was the main reason he was late for his DADA class. But entering the room he found Professor Snape standing in front of the blackboard, instead of the teacher whose lessons he enjoyed so much.

"Ah, Potter. So nice of you to join us," Snape snarled, returning from his coma-like state to his, unfortunate, former self. "Ten points from Gryffindor for being late. Now sit down."

Harry didn't ask any questions, just raced quickly to his seat. He felt like something other than a normal lesson was going on, and he would see what soon enough.

Snape continued his tirade about Lupin's failings as a teacher, and it was clear that he was getting more and more irate with every person who was interrupting him to protect their DADA Professor. It was like they were spoiling it for him, that he had some agenda aside from lesson plan, that he wanted to talk about...

"Werewolves," Snape said with a twisted smile, stating at last what they would be learning today.

Entire class erupted in another round of complains about the subjects they haven't learnt yet, but Harry sat there, staring at Snape, finally understanding what he was trying to accomplish.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" said Snape.

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, shot straight into the air.

Harry caught her attention, and slightly shook his head. She frowned at him, but still lowered her hand. The Potions Master seemed not to notice that, or chose to ignore it.

"Anyone?" Snape said. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between them?"

Seeing the interaction between Harry and Hermione, the rest of the class kept quiet.

"Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one—"

That was enough for Harry to confirm his assumption, and he couldn't help but to interfere with the tirade.

"I may not know how to spot a werewolf, but I certainly can do that with a person who is desperately trying to talk about things that are better left unsaid. Sir," Harry said, staring straight into those black cold eyes of the Potions Master.

Snape seemed to be thrown off balance by that, since he hadn't given into his first impulse, which would be to snap back at anyone who would interrupt him. Harry could see that he wasn't expecting to be found out so easily, that he thought his "stealthy" way of undermining Lupin would be so effective. That initial moment passed, and he again put his best sneer in place.

"Read that chapter. I expect no less than two rolls parchment describing every detail. Get to work," he snarled, and after that, went to sit behind the desk, returning to his "leave me alone or die" attitude, staring off into space.

Everyone exchanged glances, not understanding what exactly happened, but then went to reading. Still, seeing that meaningful look Hermione gave him, Harry knew that he would have to explain it, even if only to one person.

* * *

Late into the night, when everyone else went to sleep, there were still three people sitting in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room. After making sure that there was no one else who could hear them, one of them said:

"Okay, we're alone. Now tell me what you know," Hermione demanded, her need to know making her sound a little unhinged. Her hair was a bit, if possible, fluffier than usual, and she blew a strand out of her eye to concentrate on Harry. She must have been worrying about the topic for most of the day.

Harry just smiled, and shifted his gaze from her to the window.

"There is beautiful moon out tonight," he commented, raising his eyebrows ever so slightly to see whether his friend would understand what he was implying.

Hermione scowled at him, but still, turned to the window. "It's full moon, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's sad that Professor Lupin can't enjoy it."

"Professor Lupin is sick, not blind. Why couldn't he..." Hermione snapped at him in her irritation, but stopped, thinking about her own question. The moon, sick Professor, Snape's lesson, "things that are better left unsaid"...

Surprisingly, Neville got the conclusion faster, and there was very audible intake of breath from the spot that he was sitting in. Even though his back was turned, Harry could have sworn he even heard Neville's eyes widening and hands shaking.

"Yo-you do-don't mean..." he stuttered, a sure sign of him being nervous. After he said that, Hermione's jaw dropped to the floor. Harry just nodded to confirm that they, given their reactions, had the right conclusion.

"But you can't mean that Professor Dumbledore hired a... I mean, I've read through the chapter about werewolves again, and all those things they write about..."

"Hermione!" Harry said forcefully to prevent her from panicking because of all those things that she learnt on the subject. Neville on the other hand was getting greener by the minute. Seeing the state things were in, he chose the person who was more probable to explode first.

"Hermione, would you write anything good about leprosy?" she stopped, having a new problem helped to focus her attention. After a while, she shook her head. "Of course not. It's a disease, and in textbooks you would read about what kind of damage it does to the body. Since it's a Defence book, you have the same, all the bad sides of the werewolf. But books don't write about people, only about the disease. You don't read about sick being marginalised just because of the misfortune of being infected. Here it's worse, since they hunt werewolfs down, like rabid animals." At that, Neville nodded, seemingly approving.

"It's good, too. My grandmother says they're dangerous," he commented, so Harry directed his next words to his male friend.

"All this time you spent with Professor Lupin, was he dangerous? Has he threatened you in any way? Was his proximity making you feel uncomfortable, or unsafe even?" Neville thought about it, and hung his head, shaking it to say no. "I mean no disrespect to your grandmother, but make your own mind up about this one. Werewolves are dangerous only one day every month, and the rest of the time they're pretty much like anyone else. Given that, and seeing how our Professor is acting, I would have to say that being a werewolf doesn't automatically make you a bad person. On the other hand, being a bad person will make you into a ferocious beast once you turn into a werewolf,"

"And everyone thinks of every single werewolf badly, because bad things is all you can hear about them," Hermione added.

They sat there for a while more before going to sleep, with their own thoughts to deal with. Those thoughts were mainly of full moons, howling in the distance, and the question whether or not Dumbledore really knew what he was doing.

* * *

Harry didn't sleep much that night, especially with greater part of it spent on petting Crookshanks, who repeatedly tried to sneak up to the boys dorm room. The cat seemed to be very smart, if the way he sniffed, then licked Harry when he caught him the first time, had to do say anything. Harry thought that he probably remembered him from the train, and was counting on a good scratch. So for couple of hours, he sat in front of the fire that nearly died a few times, scratching the cat. Most of the time, however, he was thinking what could be the reason for it to be so obsessed with Scrabbers, a little mind-game to pass the time, while he was staring at the thunderstorm raging outside.

Finally noticing the time, he settled on the idea that Crookshanks saw Scrabbers as a challenge, closely protected, thus funnier to achieve, and went to get some breakfast. Entering the Great Hall, he noticed that the Slytherin team was a bit on the green side, and it had nothing to do with their uniforms.

"What's with them?" Harry asked pointing to the Slytherin table, after he found a seat by his own team mates.

"While we were training, they tried to reschedule, or cancel this game on some basis or other," Wood said. "As it is, nothing worked and they have to play," he finished, and a thunder clap accompanied his satisfied smile.

"That, or they ate something bad," Fred piped in. His smile was all too innocent for them not be involved in whatever had happened to the Slytherins, or at least had some idea who was. That, or they really were innocent. On second thoughts, they'd probably done at least one other thing to make the words "detention" and "torture" slip into the minds of their prank targets.

"Yeah. We heard about a new restaurant opening nearby," commented George, fingering his spoon with an identical grin as his twin.

"Do you know about it, Harry?" they asked together.

"No, I don't think so," he stated innocently, finding his scrambled eggs immensely interesting. "Tell, me all about it."

For the duration of the meal, the entire team boosted their morale, at the expense of Slytherins misfortune. It was good that they did, because once they were on the field, things weren't so bright any more. There was so much water pouring from the sky, that Harry couldn't believe that he was still able to breathe freely. Clouds that were hanging over the stadium were so thick, that even knowing that it was mid morning, it was hard not to think of it as late evening. And of course, thanks to the thunderstorm and ferocious wind, you could hardly hear anything from the person standing next to you, not even saying about anything couple of feet away. As it was, they had to play a game while being practically deaf, blind, and numb from the cold rain. Harry immediately knew that it would be up to him to end it as fast as he could.

Just before they went off, Hermione charmed his glasses to repel water, but after they begun on Madam Hooch's signal, he knew that even if he could see, flying in those conditions wouldn't be the easiest thing he had ever done. Still, thanks to Woods training, they were doing much better than Slytherins, who, even with their superior brooms, couldn't even predict in which direction they would go.

Harry lost track of time, but finally he spotted that elusive glint of gold climbing higher and higher into the sky, and immediately gave chase. Going after the Snitch, he quickly glanced back to see if Malfoy was after him, and in a moment of light that came with a thunder, he saw a big black dog sitting in the top row of seats. He hesitated for a while, to make sure that he really saw the dog, but that was enough for the wind to throw him of course, and by the time he regained control over his broom, Malfoy caught up to him.

They sped up after the golden ball, Malfoy having his superior broom, but Harry making better use of his, given the training he went through. They were by the Snitch, both reaching for it, when at last Harry noticed a strange silence that descended on the stadium, and that coldness that couldn't even remotely be related to the rain... In the second he noticed that, time slowed down to a stop. He had enough time to register pain in his ribs, before he was falling...

* * *

'Wake up.'

It was completely dark, and Harry could feel he was falling, but gravity wasn't working right. It felt more like slowly descending deeper into water rather than falling through air.

'Wake up.'

He could hear a hum. Was it a hum? Maybe it was more of a whistle. There was a flash of light, but not the one like he remembered from the last time he was in this dream like state.

'Wake up!'

There was a silhouette in front of him. Someone was screaming. Who was screaming? What was that person screaming? Concentrate, Harry!

'WAKE UP!'

Harry opened his eyes, and indeed he was falling with the raindrops of the thunderstorm that was still raging, wind howling all around him, and thunders cutting through the air. One good look above, and he could see Malfoy on his broom, just above a score of Dementors who were hanging in the air. Once he took that all in, gravity returned with it's full force, and he plunged to the ground, with Dementors chasing after him.

The silhouette in front of him stayed the same though, and after concentrating on it, he could see it was Magie, who was seemingly standing in the air just in front of him.

'Finally, you're awake. How long would you like for me to stand here and call for you?' she asked, clearly annoyed. Seeing Harry staring at her blankly, still in his half-awake state, she huffed, and put a string in his hand. 'Here, pull this for me, OK?'

Harry shifted his gaze from her to the string in his hand, but done as he was told. It was fortunate for him to do it in this exact moment, because the enchantment that Magie had put on his uniform had enough time to change the cloth into something like a parachute, said construct slow his descend, before the rest of the speed from his fall and an additional gust of wind smacked him into the muddy field. For once in his life, Harry was glad about the mud on the field.

In the next second, the whole world filled with a bright, silver light, and when that receded, there were people all around him.

"Is he all right?","Is he hurt?","Take him to the locker room.","Make way!","Coming through!"

They lead him to their locker room, and soon after Madam Pomfrey came up with something to wake him up, gave him chocolate to fight the effect Dementors had on him, and proceeded to scan him for any additional injuries.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, while still casting spells on him, and mixing something that didn't look like he would ever want to put it in his mouth.

"Shaky, but all right," he answered, while trying to sit in more comfortable position. That's when his chest reminded him about itself. "On the other hand, you could do something about my ribs," he said through gritted teeth.

Immediately, the school's nurse went for that spot, and moments later announced, "Cracked ribs from blunt trauma, you should feel pain, but it's nothing one or two potions couldn't heal. Now, tell us what happened."

He related as best as he could, the chase, when he noticed the Dementors, and the moment when he thought he fell from his broom, remembering the pain. He skipped how, just said that he woke up moments later to see that he had fallen through the group of Dementors, that he had enough mind to understand he had to somehow slow his fall. He stopped there, as everyone could see the effects of that.

The problem was, that the end of his story was heard only by Madam Pomfrey, as the rest of his team and supporters went outside at the description of the moment he fell from his broom. Carefully he stood up, and went to the exit to see what was happening.

He could see Slytherins were enjoying their win outside, not minding the rain any more, or the fact that practically everyone else left, given the effects Dementors had on people. Draco was boasting, showing everyone the Snitch he caught, which gave Slytherins enough points to trample the lead that Gryffindor chasers were able to produce.

Wood charged right up to Draco, picked him up by his shirt, and even through the rain Harry could hear his team mates shouts.

"YOU KNOCKED HIM OFF HIS BROOM YOU LITTLE-"

"WOOD!" Professor McGonagal interfered, making Wood not only let go of Malfoy, but throw him down into the mud.

A heated discussion preceeded, that, Harry only assumed, was about Wood's behaviour from McGonagall's end, and Wood's reasons for his anger, with both teams joining into the shouting match. But it all stopped, when the ball that fell into the mud with Draco, spread its wings, got itself from the ground, and zoomed through the air. Everyone stared as Snitch flew, not to Draco, but to Harry, who was still standing in the locker room entrance.

Harry frowned at the little ball hovering in front of him, even poked it with his finger to make it go away, and then stopped, because strangest sound reached his ears. Laughter. He looked up to see Wood, standing there, rain pouring all over him, but still, he was doubled with laughter like he heard the best joke ever. Harry grabbed the golden ball, and went to the group to ask what was so funny.

"Don't-don't you know?" Wood tried to explain, still in the middle of a laughing fit. "Snitches have flesh memories, to distinguish who caught it first in case there is any uncertainty." He finally straightened out, grinning broadly. "You have the Snitch in your hand. You must have caught it, just to drop it when you fell. And that means..."

"We won," Fred finished, slack-jawed. He looked like he had gone into a state of shock, and Harry was possibly considering calling Madame Pomfrey until he broke out into a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with humour.

"We won," George chorused.

"WE WON!" the entire team shouted together, and again there were people all over Harry, trading hugs and pats on the back. Girls probably kissed him at least three times each, and still, everyone had to be reminded to watch his ribs. Wood carried him on his shoulders all the way to the castle, with Fred and George speeding to the common room to prepare a fitting party.

But when they were passing by the Slytherin team, which was now looking even worse than before the game, Harry locked his eyes with Malfoys, and mouthed "You owe me" while pointing to the sky.

And Draco Malfoy hated himself in that moment. Not because of what he had done, but because deep inside, he felt that it was true. He owed a debt to Harry Potter for saving him from the Dementors. That was not a debt he felt good about, either.

* * *

AN. Just reminding that underlined text is taken straight from the book.

Now, 100k words in this story, and still counting. When I started, I thought I would be finishing somewhere around here, but I'm not even halfway through the third year... No matter, that only means there is so much more more fun in front of us... and... more sleepless nights for me, being overwhelmed with all those ideas wanting to make the stage... damn...


	40. Chapter 40

All of you can see that I don't write perfect English. That in it's own right have to disqualify me from being a professional author like J. K. Rowling.

* * *

AN. After a lazy Saturday, we got ourself to work, and as I'm writing this, EnjoyEveryMoment is reading through another chapter. Now, this is what I call a interactive writing...

* * *

The party in Gryffindor Tower turned out a little more chaotic than anyone might have expected, with Professor McGonagall having to come up at least twice to remind them about their behaviour. But still, a little of excessive happiness after an encounter with a Dementor should be expected, saying nothing about such a close loss to the Slytherins. Only when it was morning some remembered that no one thought about Harry's broom. When they found it smashed to bits and pieces under the Whooping Willow, they noticed that Harry himself wasn't exactly paying attention.

His closest friends could tell that he had a problem to solve, and that he couldn't be bothered until he had his answer. Harry himself didn't know where to start, because somewhere in his own mind, he had that strange idea that all of his problems - his Godfather being on the run, which led to teachers thinking he needed protection, which further led to Dementors and those strange visions he kept having - could be solved by something so simple, so obvious, that his mind on it's own disregarded it as not probable, and for the life of it, he couldn't think what it could be.

What brought him back from his stupor was a message from Rose, saying that teachers at last restored Slytherin common room to it's previous glory. He couldn't stop laughing for good fifteen minutes because of it. Of course, days of the most famous diner inside Hogwarts' walls were over, but what was so funny about it, was that it took teachers three weeks to solve the mystery of the prank. The mystery was: there was no mystery at all.

All this time, teachers tried to find a way to end the illusion or transfiguration that someone might have done on the interior of the Slytherin common room. Illusion or transfiguration, because they didn't know for sure what was done. All their efforts to find out the means by which the room might have been changed, failed, and casting counters one after the other proved no effect.

And it wouldn't even in a million years, because the only thing that had charms on it in the whole new interior, was the little plastic figure taking in the orders. The rest of it, was real. Walls, counter, mannequins, tables... Everything shrinked and sent to Rose in little gift-boxes, which were placed in various spots in the room, that unpacked them-self upon hearing proper command. Harry had no idea where Fred and George got their "supplies" from, but people there had to be seriously wondering where they could have misplaced a whole decoration's set, not saying anything about a gigantic bunny-balloon.

Of course, the teachers wouldn't know that if not for Professor Snape, who got so irritated about having to stare at the design for yet another day, that he kicked one of the walls, which promptly collapsed on top of him, revealing unchanged wall behind it. Then it was as simple as to shrink the decorations again, take them out, and rearrange the original furniture which was hidden behind the set-up. Surprisingly, all this time, no one noticed that common room shrinked 6feet in width, and when Rose asked about that, Harry simply replied "It's because of the bright colours".

But returning to the reality, meant dealing with entirely different set of problems, the biggest of which turned out to be Ron Weasley, who no matter what, couldn't be persuaded that there is simply no such thing as "control" when it comes to owning a cat, because he was still insisting that Hermione did brought the misfortune on Scabbers intentionally. No matter how much Harry, and surprisingly Neville too, tried to stand up for her, he wouldn't calm down, and almost everyone in the tower came to the decision that he was overreacting, when the third day of ranting about his poor rat being eaten by the cat, came to pass.

It was far easier to talk Hermione into not minding Ron, waiting until he lost his steam, than to negotiate with him. Surprisingly, it was far harder for Harry to stop minding Crookshanks, who became restless in the following days. The cat frequently ran around the Gryffindor common room, searching in every crack big enough to put his paw in. But wherever he went, if he passed anywhere near Harry, he did everything to catch his attention. In time, Harry had less and less excuses for such a behaviour, because Crookshanks didn't even look at any snacks presented to him, and whenever Harry tried to scratch him, he sprung off to go for another look around the tower. Certainly not a behaviour of a content cat who just ate a big fat rat.

On one evening, it went beyond whatever Harry could explain. Crookshanks was running rampart again, and as always, while passing by Harry, tapped his leg with his paw. Harry picked him up, looked straight at him, and somewhat irritated with their little game, asked out loud:

"What? What are you trying to tell me?"

Crookshanks became completely still, looking back at Harry. Then his ears moved, he started wiggling furiously, and after Harry set him down again, he ran up to the window and begun scratching the glass. Harry went after him, confused what it'll be now, and looked out the window, just for his eyes to widen. Down below, sneaking across the grounds, was a big black dog, which by now for Harry was unmistakable. Harry had that sinking feeling that mystery regarding his Godfather was getting more and more bizarre with every new clue.

* * *

Hogsmade trip was on the day before end of term, when most of the students would return to their homes for Christmas. But even so close to the break, when Harry and his friends were walking around a town that could be taken straight from Christmas postcard, a day couldn't pass without Sirius Black leaving his mark in Harry's life. Today, quite literally, as it took Harry only 5 minutes in Hogsmeade to spot dog tracks imprinted in the snow. Harry, even without being told, knew that there was only one dog that could have left those.

"What is it?" Hermione asked when he stopped dead in his tracks.

"I just remembered I have to do something." Harry replied, turning to her and smiling slightly.

"Will it take long?" she questioned.

"I think that it shouldn't take too long." Harry commented off handedly.

"Then we'll come with you." came an unexpected response.

Harry's first impulse was to make them stay, or lie that it was something he needed to do alone. Well, he wouldn't be lying. 'But if they understand about Lupin...' he thought.

'Sooner or later, they'll need to know,' Magie added helpfully, appearing as she always did beside him.

"Okay, let's go," Harry said after a while of thought, and he moved along the tracks that were most clear in the snow.

They took them off the main road, to the countryside around Hogsmeade. It seemed that they were passing by the homes of people managing the shops in the village, but even that quickly ended, as they neared the mountain. After taking the turn, they saw a stile at the end of the lane. Harry made to cross it, when:

"Harry, where are we going?" Neville asked, less sure of this trip than he was being in the middle of the village.

"Do you trust me?" Harry asked, one foot on the stile. "Both of you?"

Hermione and Neville glanced at each other, but in the end said "Yes,"and "Yes, of course."

"I don't know," Harry said, getting over the stile.

"What?" both of them asked, but still following him.

"I don't know where we're going."

That answer prompted his companions to exchange glances again, this time a lot more worried than before. They followed the trail, which turned out to be leading up the mountain, until it vanished. Quick look around, they found a crevice in the rock, which lead them to an empty, dimly lit cave.

"Great, so what now?" Hermione asked, not appreciating this turn of events. Seeing as Harry just stood there, she sighted. "Tell me when you'll be ready to go back," she said, and found a big rock against one of the walls to sit on, with enough space for Neville to join her.

Harry meanwhile waited for Magie, who was playing one of her games.

'Eenie, meenie, miney, moe,' she said in sing-songy voice, while pointing random stones, 'You may stay, and you must...go,' she stopped, pointing rock which looked like any other.

Harry didn't even wait, he stepped closer to pick it up, but instead of coming out of the pile, it went further down. In the exact moment when that happened, the "bench" Hermione and Neville were sitting on turned upside down, and what was ;eft after them, was a vanishing echo of their screams. Harry came closer to the now visible passage, only to notice a slide similar to the one leading to the Chamber of Secrets. He grinned, and quickly followed after his friends.

"What was that for?" Hermione, who looked a little worse for wear, shouted at him when he joined them at the bottom of the slide.

"Hey, I told you once already that I have no idea where we're going." Harry said with a shrug, quickly getting further down the corridor. Hermione huffed in exasperation, and Neville just shook his head with a grin, remembering that no matter what Harry did, it always ended more exciting than you would anticipate.

"Then why are we following this crazy path?" Hermione asked after she caught up to him.

"Because of the person that went here first," Harry answered, coming to a stop in front of set of doors. He turned around. "I'll ask again, because it's very important. Do you trust me?" he asked, looking both of them.

"We left Hogsmade after we just entered it, went mountain climbing, then caving, and after all this you ask me if I trust you?" Hermione asked, getting more annoyed by the minute. Harry nodded with a smile. "Yeah, whatever. Can we move already?" she answered with a sigh. Neville just grinned more.

Harry nodded, before becoming serious. "Then don't panic," he said, before opening the doors in front of him. His companions stopped short at the change of mood, both thinking, why would they panic?

"You look like crap," they heard Harry say, and quickly followed through the doors. It turned out that the tunnel was hidden in a wardrobe, which stood in an old dusty house. They saw Harry standing nearby, but more interesting for them was person standing on the end of the corridor. Because there was the man which most of the wizards dreaded meeting. Sirius Black. Still, they didn't panic. Their minds were wiped clean with complete state of shock, even taking panic with it.

Sirius seemed to be surprised himself, but got over it quickly, then checked himself over, and said: "Yeah, it seems so." He gave himself a short sniff and added. "But I think crap smells better," while waving his hand in front of his face.

That got a small chuckle out of Harry, and made thinking process to restart in his companions minds. Normal thing to do was to run at first glance at the man standing in front of them, dressed in rags, matted, filthy hair hanging from his head, at least partly covering his waxy skin, tightly stretched over his face. Yet, Harry was standing there, conversing like with an old lost friend. They remembered what he told them, and just stood there, watching as things played out.

"How did you find my little love nest?" Sirius said, admiring the dusty floor, wall's full of cracks and scratch marks, and windows which were boarded shut.

"You know, that good for nothing dog as you call him, leaves mighty large tracks wherever he goes," Harry said, giving him a pointed look, at which Sirius just nodded.

"So... are you going to take me in now, or what?" he asked, getting more serious.

"Well, since I brought my own search party... I'd rather know what's the treasure you've been searching for," Harry said with a smile, and his godfather relaxed again.

"I know it might sound crazy..." Sirius begun, just to be interrupted by a bushy haired girl who seemed to have recovered; and was not happy about it.

"Yes, because all of this isn't crazy," Hermione said out loud.

"Oh, it speaks!" Sirius chorused joyfully. Hermione just huffed, crossing her arms, while Neville grinned with Harry.

"You were saying," Harry prompted, noticing that his godfathers face darkened.

"Pettigrew," he spat, "That rat is hiding somewhere in the castle, and..."

Harry couldn't hear the rest, because it was tuned out by his own thoughts.

'The rat. The rat! Cat, Rat and Dog. Sirius somehow asked Crookshanks to get the Rat, since he is such a smart cat. But if Rat is the same as Sirius, Magie should...' Harry turned to Magie who to this point was following them soundlessly.

'Why would I want to touch a...' she begun with a disgusted face, only to stop with wide eyes. 'Erm, Harry... Not wanting to touch something, isn't the same as if I couldn't do it?' she asked, wincing.

Harry quickly whipped out the map that he still had on him, and after muttering the activation phrase, scanned it. Finding what he was looking for he turned back to Sirius who was still ranting.

"...and when I get that..." he went on, doing strangling motions with his hands.

"You rather go after _that_, or are you more interested in _this_ Petter Pettigrew?" Harry asked, putting the map right in front of his face, and pointing to the clearly visible name.

* * *

After Harry showed him the map, or more exactly what was shown on it, Sirius had enough time to call for everybody to follow him, before he vanished in yet another tunnel. They sped after him, staying as closely as they could while running bent almost double, but they quickly lost sight of Sirius, running ahead in his dog form. They cauth with him at the end of the tunnel. After he stuck his arm outside and fiddled with something, he said it was safe to get out. When they noticed the Whooping Willow, they weren't so sure about being safe. Sirius didn't mind, because he again sped off, this time in his human form, making them chase after him again.

"Hey! We were in the Shreaking Shack!" Harry exclaimed, finally understanding where the odd tunnel shown on the map led.

"It's supposed to be haunted. How many entrances does it have?" Hermione asked with a frown.

"Just the two," Sirius replied, not slowing the pace. "The one you entered by we dug by ourself. This is the original one, built for..."

"Professor Lupin!" Harry exclaimed again, having another revelation, scratch marks being a big hint.

"Lily would be proud." Sirius said with a broad grin, while looking over his shoulder.

"Guys... Why are we heading towards the Forbidden Forest?" asked Neville, paying mind to more immediate problems.

"Because as long as I don't have the proof, I'm still on the run." Sirius commented, setting his mind on the goal.

They travelled further into the forest, Sirius leading them through the undergrowth, making turns in exact moments as if he memorised the route, avoiding the thickest of it. Suddenly, he stopped. By now, everyone else lost track where they might be, but Sirius just stood there, looking around for a while, then said:

"Harry, check the map again."

He did, and surprisingly, they could be seen just on the edge of it, with Hagrid's hut being the closest building. But Peter Pettigrew could no longer be seen near Hagrid's hut, instead...

"We might have a problem," Harry said, stopping Sirius in his tracks. "It seems Hagrid might have found the rat, and since he thinks it's Scabbers, he's got him. It looks like he's doing a patrol around the grounds, and is heading this way."

"Scabbers," Sirius said with disgust. "Wormtail at least told you what kind of person he really was."

Harry stopped, took a double look at Sirius, and grinned. "So, that good for nothing dog of yours was named Padfoot, wasn't it? Then Professor Lupin was Moony."

"And your dad was Prongs." Sirius finished, with a similar grin.

"Guys!" Hermione hissed, "Problem? Hagrid? Ring any bells?", her voice a loud whisper, and they understood why when they heard the sound of steps that could belong only to Hagrid.

"Hide, we'll take care of it," Harry whispered to Sirius, and without waiting for a reply, went in the direction Hagrid was heading to, with his friends in his tracks.

"Who goes there?" a booming voice caught them by surprise as they got nearer.

"Hey! Lower that thing." Harry said, with his hands high, stepping out of the bushes right in front of Hagrid's crossbow.

"What're ya doing here? Ya know that ya shouldn't wander into the forest," the giant of a man said, lowering his weapon.

"We were looking for Scabbers," Harry instantly said, because truth be told, they were.

"I think you mean this little bugger, don't you?" Hagrid asked while fishing the rat from his pocket. "I found him nibbling the plants on my patch," he added while handing it to Harry.

Harry thought for a minute, then came to a decision, and begun before Hagrid begun asking why they were wandering around the forest alone, instead of asking anyone for help.

"Hagrid, could you set you crossbow down for a while? I'll need your help with something," Harry said, exchanging glances with his two companions.

"So, what are we doing?" Hagrid asked after he put his crossbow against a tree.

"You trust my judgement, right?"

"Well, sure. You're a smart kid, Harry," Hagrid answered, smiling, his voice echoing through the forest like a fog-horn.

"Then stand still until we finish explaining," Harry said, then took the rat by the tail, and hanging him in fron of him. "Hermione, could you..."

"Petrificus Totalus." Hermione cast on the rat, and it's body becames ridgid, but his eyes swiveled in circles. Meanwhile, Harry whistled a whistle which you expect someone to call a dog with, and placed the rat on the ground.

The bushes behind them started shaking, and Sirius came out of them, mimicking Harry's surrender gesture. Hagrid took one look at the ragged visitor and his face darkened.

"YOU!" he roared, ready to lunge at the man.

"HAGRID!" Harry shouted. Having so much experience from his uncle, he knew that it was best to stop the man before he built up steam.

Hagrid did stop, took in the scene, with three of them standing there calmly, Sirius standing still, with his hands raised, and a petrified rat laying on the ground. Confusion replaced his initial rage.

"Explain, quickly," he demanded in gruff voice, his brow still furrowed.

"Show him," Harry said, slowly getting his wand out and handing it to Sirius, maintaining eye contact with Hagrid as to make sure he stays calm.

Sirius took the wand, slowly made his way to the petrified rat, squatted down in front of it, and with a muttered incantation, touched it with his wand. Before their very eyes, the rat changed into a fully grown man. It was like watching a tree grow from a seed in high speed.

"Here's your rat," Sirius said, in much calmer voice, as he was watching the eyes on the petrified man dart around frantically. He stood up, handing the wand over, not to Harry, but to Hagrid.

Hagrid didn't took it though. He didn't even look at Sirius. He just watched Pettigrew laying there, and his face became darker by the second, even more than when he saw Sirius.

"Hagrid, we need to take him to the castle," Hermione said, her gentle voice bringing the giant back, since it was so unfitting in his current thoughts. "We need to hand him over."

Only now did Hagrid look at Sirius, and after staring at him for a while, he gave a short nod. He picked still petrified Pettigrew, and for a while, he looked like he was thinking about crushing the little man with his hands, but then went on in the direction he came from.

"Go with him and tell what happened," Harry said to his friends. "We'll be waiting here."

Hermione and Neville looked shortly between him and Hagrid who was getting further away, before running after the giant.

Harry and Sirius stood there, doing awkward small talk while they waited. Neither knew what they were really waiting for. Someone to come and tell them that Sirius could stop running? Maybe an auror to take him into custody until official hearing. Whatever they were thinking, they haven't anticipated the temperature to drop, or the feeling of dread to settle into their bones. The demons of Azkaban, who were still hunting Sirius, came to get him. At it wasn't some of them. It wasn't even couple of dozens, like during the game. From what it looked like, all of them came, because anywhere Harry looked, were only black shadows, and their ragged breaths was the only sound that could be heard.

In seconds, Sirius was on the ground, his tired mind not able to handle the strain, but with that many, Harry was soon to follow. He was on his knees when _it_ happened, stronger and faster than before. Again he felt like he was falling, but it didn't felt exactly the same. It was like someone was lowering him, and that hum he heard all those times before was there too, clearer than ever. It couldn't have anything to do with Dementors. It was too clear, and to melodic... It was as if someone was humming to him.

Fighting his tiredness he opened his eyes, and there was silhouette right in front of him. He concentrated harder, and he could make a face.

'Magie.'

She was looking down at him, humming softly, like she used to do when he couldn't sleep, troubled by some thoughts.

'Stupid Magie. Why is she putting me to sleep in this situation?' he though and smiled at the stupidity of such thing. The face above him smiled back.

But as he thought about it, he noticed another strange thing.

'Why does Magie look so old? She's younger than me. And when did she change her hair colour? And those eyes... they're like... mine.' he thought, and immediately, he remembered.

Mum...

'My mother used to sing to me, even my dad did it when she couldn't, but mum was always better at it. She used to sing more gently, and it would be this humming melody when I was falling asleep...'

It is strange how memory worked. That memory could have been as well the night his parents were killed... but right now he didn't bother with that. He remembered. He remembered his mother putting him to sleep, his father lifting him high in the air, even Sirius and Remus grinning down at him...

Those weren't whole memories, more like pictures flashing before his eyes, but it was enough for him to imagine his family and their friends. Happy days from the past...

And as those pictures were flashing faster and faster, he no longer could identify what they showed, and instead, there was only one spot of light, as if someone finished a slide show, but forgot to turn of the lamp.

'Don't go into the light.' went a funny thought through Harry's head, but he just couldn't stop himself from reaching for it with his hands. That light represented all those good things he just saw, he just had to have it.

He blinked...

He was lying on the ground with his arms outstretched, and he could see a faint light glowing from between his fingers. He sat up, and looked at his hands, still holding onto something. He brought them closer, not wanting to let whatever he was holding to escape. But as he opened them to take a peak, he saw brilliantly white lily flower.

'Mum...' Harry thought again, and a single tear rolled from his eye, across his cheek, and onto the flower. And as they touched, the white petals started to fly away with a wind that Harry couldn't feel, and were just flowing gently around him, every single one of them emanating a soft glow.

For Harry, it looked like there was nothing else. Like there was only him, suspended inside a galaxy of stars. But it didn't bother him, as wherever he looked, he saw star-like flower petals, and each had different feel to it.

Closest ones were those from the past, but there were other as well, representing his friends, his accomplished, things he liked... He stood up as more and more appeared, some brighter than other, but one, the one right above him, was shinning the brightest...

'Magie.' Harry thought, this time correctly. 'My own Northern star. Always there, whenever I needed her, or even sometimes it seems she's there "just because"...' he smiled, and turned to look for others. And wanting too see more and more, he begun to spin, laughing at how good it felt, watching the stars dance against black sky.

Of course, that wasn't sky that he was looking at, but maybe it was better that he didn't notice, because Dementors garbed in their black rags, that made so good of a background for this light show, stopped when the white lily appeared, and now were in full retreat, running as fast as they could from the happy memories spreading in the air.

Harry stopped. He was dizzy and he felt weak... exhausted even. Falling down near his godfather, he passed out with a content smile on his face.

* * *

AN. I'm tired sometimes. Harry looks like James, play Quidditch like James, everyone refer to him as a miniature-clone-of-James-Potter, AND he have a stag Patronus. Come on people, give some credit to Lily.


	41. Chapter 41

I'm tired of pointing out why I can't be J. K. Rowling. Why couldn't J. K. Rowling, at least once, write why she can't be me? *sigh...think* Erm...*scratch his head* It would be exactly the same thing, wouldn't it? *shrugs...goes back to work*

* * *

AN. And here it is. Nothing like chapters made on production line.

* * *

Harry stirred in his bed...

'Hmm, bed.' His unconscious mind had finally caught up, and with that came other things, like clean, warm sheets, and that distinctive smell hanging in the air, which could be only in a hospital.

'So, I'm in the hospital wing,' Harry summarised, and opened his eyes, just to close them because of the whiteness that was everywhere. He tried again, slower this time, and it was true that everything around him was white, and because of the sun, everything seemed to have a glow to it.

While he was looking around, his gaze came upon something a lot closer, because for the first time he noticed he wasn't alone in bed. It wasn't a problem though, because even without his glasses, he could recognise that face.

'Hi, Magie', 'Hi, Harry' they said together, two smiles breaking out between them.

'Rough night?' she asked with a yawn.

'You could say that,' Harry allowed, but after a quick glimpse into what transpired the previous night,' Thank you,' he said.

'Hmm?' Magie asked with her eyes closed, looking like she was going back to sleep.

'You know, for making me remember, even when I didn't know what you were doing.' She opened one eye to look at him again. 'All those times you tucked me to sleep, or... Just all those times you took care of me, Dementors or not.'

'No big deal,' she said, closing her eyes again, settling back in, 'You know that I'm the way you want me to be.'

'Yeah, you're perfect.'

'Hmm,' she sighed contently.

Harry made to look for his glasses, to make sure of the time, or even what day it was, but Magie already begun to put it on his nose, before he even got the time to turn on his back. He grinned at her, but once he could see clearly again, that grin changed to look of confusion.

'Magie, you're...' he begun, only to be interrupted.

'Yes, I'm perfect, you said that already,' she said with a slight smirk.

'No, I mean, you're...' he said once more, chuckling slightly.

'What?' she snapped at him, frowning harshly that he was disturbing her sleep.

'You're old!' he snorted out, and got punched in the arm for his effort.

But no matter what Magie did, there was no mistaking it. Earlier, she was always the same. No matter how much time passed, or how much Harry changed, she looked exactly like the first time she appeared in his cupboard. Somewhere around eleven years old, straight hair of a shade that Harry could never guess with any amount of certainty, and those sky-blue eyes.

But now, she did change, and it seemed that she caught up with all those years, and then some. She grew, and way past Harry's height, if the place where she stuck her feet had anything to say. Her babyish face lost that cuteness about it, and became more refined. It was still the same face, but somehow more beautiful than before. Of course, some part of her anatomy... Harry swallowed hard, not lingering too long on those. He returned to her face, and she was staring at him with slightly raised brow, as if she was...

'You're old!' Harry exclaimed again, grinning, not allowing her to get an upper hand in their teasing game.

'And you're an insufferable brat!' she bit back, before showing him her tongue, and just how mature she was, or not. Harry grinned more, seeing that even when she changed her appearance, she stayed all the same.

'Yeah, but you're still younger than me,' Harry commented happily. She harrumphed loudly, and turned away from him, taking all the sheets with her.

Harry grinned more, but now that she wasn't playing with him, he could notice other changes, most prominent being her hair. Earlier it was a mix of brown and blond, and he couldn't tell which of those was more in there. But now, the blond was mostly gone, if you didn't pay attention to some highlights here and there, just to be replaced with red. It wasn't just brownish-red, it was a more smoother mix, something as of burgundy, with only those lighter shades making the difference. Then again were her eyes, once clear sky-blue, but now they seemed more hazel-like, with light tones of green playing here and there. Harry thought about her change, about last night, and he just couldn't not think about his mother.

Magie was laying there with her back to him, and he couldn't stop himself from reaching out, scratching her head, and even humming part of that song that he still didn't know title off. Maggie sighed contently, and quickly fell asleep. Harry meanwhile...

* * *

There was a loud creak at the end of the room, and Harry sat upright. He was in the Hospital wing, and even if everything remained white, it lost that glow that it previously had. He glanced at the side of his bed, but Magie was nowhere to be seen.

'A dream.' Harry thought.

"Ah, Potter. You're finally awake," Madam Pomfrey that came from her office called to him. He made an attempt to reach for his glasses, only to notice that he was already wearing them. He smiled to himself after realising that it could be a little less of a dream than he first assumed.

"Three days asleep, that's quite usual," the school's nurse commented, more to herself than Harry. "Magical exhaustion is nothing to take lightly, young man," she said, making clear that he won't leave her care until she deems him fit to do so. Harry meanwhile was more busy with the connection between "magical exhaustion" and the way Magie behaved, and how quickly she drifted off.

After Madam Pomfrey checked him three times over, she said he was well enough to receive guests. She haven't even finished the sentence when Hermione, Neville, Luna and even Rose came rushing in, and went over themselves to tell what exactly happened that day.

After they went after Hagrid, they made their way to the castle. They watched Pettigrew in case he came up with any plan to run, but one look at Hagrid and it was clear that he would far sooner turn him into mush than let him escape.

They arrived at the castle in time for the meal to begin, and Hagrid with his unbeatable judgement, went straight to Dumbledore, with Pettigrew in full view. Of course, Headmaster reacted as quickly as he could, getting the man locked, informing the authorities, and beginning to question the rat.

Then Fudge came, complaining about all this nonsense of man coming back to life being ridiculous, but by then, students that recognised Pettigrew for who he really was, related it to everyone else, and the story travelled through Hogwarts gossip network faster than the speed of light. No matter what he would try, news would get out this way or another.

After Hermione and Neville related the story of finding Sirius, skipping entirely where, and how they got there, they said that Harry wanted to hear the man's story. Since there was quick way to prove Sirius version, they went along, met Hagrid, found the rat, and brought him in.

About that time, someone was sent to retrieve the pair still waiting in the forest. But when they've returned, Harry and Sirius were unconscious, and a warning that Dementors were running rampart all around the forest.

Since Harry was completely exhausted, Sirius woke up first, and took the safer route of "tell me what you know, and I'll fill the blanks" when they came to question him. The main question on everyone's mind was why Harry wasn't scared of him, and he retold the time they spent together near Harry's uncle's house, telling jokes for almost an hour. Saying that faces of the people listening to him were priceless was an understatement.

Then came that unpleasant part of Harry and Sirius, who by now everyone knew to be innocent, nearly being kissed by a swarm of Dementors. Sirius told that he was unconscious faster than he knew it, and Harry had to be the one responsible for chasing away the Dementors. No one knew how such a young boy who never learnt to do so might do that, but the state he was in certainly supported that claim.

His friends finished by relaying message from Sirius, saying that he was busy with getting back to life again, mainly boring paperwork dealing with his incarceration, release, money and property that were confiscated from him... Boring stuff, as he called it. But he promised that he will check up on Harry if he would have a moment.

* * *

Harry left Hospital wing two days later, with a prescription to not do any magic before the start of next term. He was heading to Gryffindor tower, to relax with his friends, but he haven't even made the first turn, when a voice disturbed him.

'This way,' he heard in his head. He turned, and saw Salazar, making his way in the other direction.

'What are you doing here? I'm not supposed to do any magic right now,' Harry said after he caught up.

'From what I know, hallucinating isn't a form of illusionism,' the Slytherin replied with a smirk on his face.

'Then where's Magie?' Harry asked what he thought to be an obvious question.

Salazar just glanced at him, 'Haven't you been paying attention? The young lady is exhausted right now,' he said, shaking his head with a sense of humour over the pun he just made.

'Okay, so, what are we doing?' Harry asked, still following his, somewhat, unusual mentor.

'Before we get to that, we must talk about something you did, and which disqualifies you as my apprentice,' Harry's face fell at this statement. 'Because that thing you did, proves you are fit to be named young master of the art,'

Salazar begun, still making his way around the corridors of the castle, with Harry listening intently.

'We didn't have those things, Dementors you call them, in our times, and I have no idea where they might have came from, perhaps another magical experiment that went awry. But it's exactly what makes your actions so exceptional. A student is given a task, to recreate some effect. He knows where he is, what is the end result, he just needs to fill the gap within. A master in the field of magic faces difficulties without knowing where the solutions might lead him. And you did just that. That night you did spell you had never seen before, without knowing what exactly you were aiming for. You proved that a status of an apprentice is no longer fitting for you.'

'So, what do I do now?' Harry asked.

'Oh, don't assume that you are done learning. You know much, but there is far more to learn. Even with what I remember now, I don't think I know the third of what my former self knew.' Salazar commented, stopping at an intersection, looking like he couldn't decide which turn to take.

'I meant to ask about it for a while now, how much do you know, exactly?' Harry asked.

'And how much do you know?' Salazar responded, finally going further. 'I mean, do you remember every second of your life? Have you memorised all of the books you have ever read? Of course not, there is too much of it. I merely remember enough to make sense of it. Sometimes I remember precise instructions for myslef. Other time I can't make sense of something until I compile things my former self must have deemed obvious, but once I make those observations, it comes back. I think the most of which I don't remember, are really advanced things. But I wouldn't have to, since as master goes further into his own studies, he works on his own style, and explores things that suit him best. I just have to take you take far enough for you to...Ah, here it is,' Salazar exclaimed after stopping in front of bare lenght of wall.

Harry quickly glanced around, and the only thing in this particular corridor seemed to be a tapestry of a man, who looked like he was teaching trolls to dance.

'Would you please walk back and forth three times, thinking about _that_ room? Leave the describtion of what exactly _that_ means, to me,' Salazar said, bringing Harry from his observations.

Harry was confused, but did as he was told, pacing back and forth, thinking about a room. On his last pass, a door appeared.

'Shall we come in?' Salazar proposed, waiting for Harry to open the door, since he couldn't do it himself.

Harry twisted the handle, but after entering the room, there was nothing but blackness, and after the doors were closed, it could be as if nothing aside from Harry and Salazar existed in the world.

'What is this place?' Harry said, trying to look around, but the moment he lost track of Slytherin, it felt like looking with your eyes closed, given the overwhelming darkness.

'This used to be Rowena's laboratory,' Slytherin said, 'I told you once that this castle was built by wizards trying to explore what exactly could be done with magic. While we were wondering ways to apply it, Rowena concentrated on finding out where it all came from. World, people, but mainly, magic. This became as a laboratory, but in time, with her adding charms and testing theories, it became like this. This is what I think she summarised to be the very beginning,'

'You mean, complete darkness?'

'No, of course not. I mean this room in it's entirety. It's far beyond my understanding. I just know that when those doors appear, the room takes a certain form. But outside of that, I'm not even certain if it exists, if we take existence as we know it. What I mean as the beginning, is how she imagined world begun, how magic worked at the start of time. Just imagine, froming world with a mere thought, and doing nothing like magic as we know it.'

'You mean, something along "God's creation"? Is that even possible?'

'I guess, we'll never know. I don't think she made any progress from the time I left the castle. This room can change into pretty much any form you desire, yes. But it doesn't last. You can do anything you want while inside, but it's an entirely separate world. If it would be finished, you could step here, wish for something, and then take it outside to use it as you wish. Here, if you wish a glass of water and drink it, once you step outside, it will simply vanish from your veins, and you will find yourself parched. As I see the wizards now, I'm even glad that it's this way. The things wizards could do to one another if they had all they wished for.' Salazar said with a sigh, then noticed something else, 'But I guess that Rowena wouldn't be pleased that this room is forgotten. It was meant to be perfect place for future great minds to test their theories in safe environment. For students to learn and broaden their understanding.'

'Then what's with the pacing in front of the blank wall?' Harry asked, at which Salazar chuckled slightly.

'That was Rowena's joke. She used to say "I'll know a thinker like me, simply by the fact that he can walk three times around the castle, still pondering the same problem".'

'Do you have anything like this of your own?' Harry excited, now seeing the value of such a room.

'Oh, no. I didn't work on anything of this kind, and once I left the castle, I took all my discoveries with me, which I'm afraid to say, are probably mostly forgotten like this room, or even lost or destroyed through time.'

'Okay,' Harry responded, although a bit sad about such great loss, 'So, what are we going to do now?'

'This,' Salazar stated shortly, before he slapped Harry across the cheek. Harry was thrown off balance by that sudden blow, but caught himself before falling.

"Hey! What was that... for," Harry shouted, catching himself that he was just punched by someone who shouldn't be there. He thought about it a while, then looked back at Slytherin, "Room that can create anything?" he asked, his voice thick with sarcasm.

"Yes," Salazar answered out loud, grinning broadly, "I was wondering how long it would take you to notice. Guess you needed some prompting. And this will be what we're going to do from this point on. You may know about magic, which doesn't mean that you can use it in real situation."

"But Magie is the one making things happen, and she's..."

"Right here," she said, walking from behind Salazar. Harry didn't comment, still remembering that he didn't know anything about this room, just noticed that she seemed to have that older look of hers for good.

"You are mistaken, thinking that this young lady will always do everything instead of you. And because you can't do magic freely, and finding a sparing partner, or a suitable place would be too much of a bother in the first place, we are going to use this room. It's much safer, more secure, and easier, since we won't have to clean any potential destruction that could come up from your training. Now, lets begin..."

Harry didn't know what to expect, but listening to Salazar so casually using words like "training" and "destruction" in the same sentence, it seemed that he would miss Woods training's, because knowing Slytherin, they would soon seem like walks in the park.

* * *

AN. I think that's how Room of Requirements works. Bringing everything down to it's basics, and turning it to something else. A really, REALLY advanced transfiguration, for shorts. The "junk room" that was described in the book, could be a good source for materials to transfigurate. And, you can't take things CREATED in the room. If you bring something inside, it's just as easy to take it out.


	42. Chapter 42

Hey, at least once I thought of a thing that I and J. K. Rowling do have in common. In this case, getting couple of days of rest, don't end in piles of overdue work waiting to be done... Here the comparison ends, since I'm never going to get paid for writing this, no matter how hard I work on it.

* * *

AN. This chapter is sponsored by EnjoyEveryMoment...

* * *

It soon became apparent why Slytherin chose a completely empty room as their training place. The only thing inside of the room aside from Harry was his opponent.

"No matter what they do, how loud, flashy or irritating it may be, you keep track of your opponent!" was only thing Salazar said that day. Right after that, Harry lost track of him, and nearly got his ribs broken from his mentors surprise attack. As fond Salazar was of mind games, it didn't extend to combat training. After that initial advise, there was only one truth in their training. You made a mistake, you got hurt.

And talking wouldn't help in any case. Fighting is not about knowing the facts and reading the books; it's about doing. If you ever went to a martial training, learnt some techniques, maybe even broke a sweat... don't think yourself to be skilled in art of combat. If you look at a punch, it's nothing, really. Just another way of extending your arm. What makes you a fighter, is not knowing that you can do a decent punch. It's all this time – months, years, decades even – that you spent training. Only because all of that, you know that when the time comes, you can handle yourself, that you won't even have to think about it, you'll just do it. As far as the psychology of combat goes, it's just a way of playing with your enemy's mind, so that his own mind, be it by fear, anger or simple doubt, will start contradicting their muscle reflexes.

But Harry wasn't there yet. Firstly, he had to know by instinct how to handle himself in a wizards fight. How to weight distances between himself and his opponent, consider chances between attack and defence, or simply predict what kind of unknown will come next. Of course, the most important thing for him was to learn how to cooperate with Magie.

Slytherin was right saying that she couldn't do everything on her own. While in every day situations she seemed like any other person, her behaviour in a combat situation became something entirely else. Maybe it was because of Harry's inexperience with serious combat, and due to connection between him and Magie, but it soon became clear that she couldn't follow his every "want". If she would, then either Harry would be tossed around while she tried to do everything, or Magie would go crazy trying to think of what was the most important thing to do.

The only time that they didn't have problems with that, was when Harry was in life threatening situation and had no means to save himself. She would then do anything, everything, to get him safe again, just like she did so many times in the past. T was no surprise either, since self-preservation is one of the things every human being have in common. People are so much quicker to defend them self, and their own, if not outright run, than to fight back, thus the training needed to be considered a warrior. Of course, those who don't run away at the sight of voilence, even at young age, are considered as punks and menace, and not as fighters from birth, who, given little changes here and there, could become guardians of their community.

So, even if Magie would want to take Harry away from all the dangers, given her newly found "maternal instinct", it would only hinder his performance, if he would have to fight against his opponent... and her. On the other hand, if Magie was left on her own, she would much faster win a fight by tiring her opponent out with dodges and blocks, than by her combat skills. Truth be told, she hasn't delivered a single blow in all the time they had fought or trained. Ever.

Given all that, their training time was spent on learning who would do something best, and when, with Magie concentrating on defence, Harry learning how to attack by using powers he thought to be hers, and hers alone. And of course, developing tactics that they could use just by calling a single word.

Of course, during all that, there were many mistakes between them, and what followed with it, Harry got hurt plenty of times. Some time after they started, he even begun working on a cover story for all the bruises, in case anyone would ask, just to discover that they were gone once he stepped out of the room, which couldn't be said about the pains he was experiencing.

When he questioned Salazar about that, he answered that it was much easier to make one person "more transparent", as he called it, than to attempt constructing two additional bodies that were entirely solid. Since Harry's body had to reform at one point, Slytherin thought it a good idea to leave effects of the training, without the effects of the blows. Of course, he didn't tell Harry that it would hurt so much more, and seeing that Salazar didn't really care, he wondered about how all stories had that grain of truth in them, and history might be right that Slytherin was an outright...

* * *

Christmas in Gryffindor Tower this year was something special. Well, at least for Fred and George Weasley it was.

Sirius came himself to give Harry his presents, and to catch up. At first, everyone behaved strangely around him, but since Sirius was who he was, it gave him the opportunity to fool around. When the Weasley twins caught wind of that, it wasn't long before a case of one, very overused map came up, and then all hell broke loose.

The Twins didn't know if to question Sirius about his adventures, or tell him about their own "achievements". It was probably the strangest case of their double-speech, with the two of them telling only half a sentence, but each trying to speak only on one topic mentioned above. Since Sirius was there to catch up with Harry, and the Twins couldn't be interrupted, their monologue quickly changed to a drama in three acts, about how Harry came to Hogwarts. First act depicted how they took him under their wing:

"He was so young, so innocent, and yet so..." George continued with the story, in a dramatic voice.

"BLIND!" finished Fred, who was successful in taking Harry's glasses, needing it as a prop, but only now put it on his nose.

The second act was how he matured, and surpassed even Twins expectations. The third act was never shown, because Sirius nearly passed out, he was laughing so hard when he heard about some of the things Harry had done.

"Okay, you convinced me," Sirius said, finally being able to breathe again.

"What?" Harry asked, not knowing what magnificent idea he might have gave his godfather. Truth be told, he didn't even wanted to know what happened in Sirius' head.

"Marauders should be back in business," he stated, at which there was a complete silence in the group, because Fred and George looked like they might explode from the excitement.

"You mean, something like Marauders: Reactivation?" Harry asked, breaking the silence.

"No, rather something like Marauders: New Generation!" Sirius stated, doing that slogan hanging in the air gesture with his hand.

Harry just snorted, "Yeah, Marauders: version 2.0."

"Don't be so technical, think along the lines of, Marauders: Second Blood. You know, first one was good, but second can be better!"

"Who said that the first one was good?" Harry asked, confused.

"Hey, now you're just being mean," Sirius whined, making Harry sound more mature than his own godfather.

"Ah, at last some alcohol in the tower!" cheered Harry. "Don't tell me you've kept this bottle of whine just for this occasion. What are we celebrating?"

"Our next prank," Sirius stated simply.

"Which is?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes at how confused people listening to them must be.

"You tell me, you're the leader," Sirius said, taunting his godson and grinning evilly.

"Why do I have to be the leader?" Harry asked, not understanding his godfather's logic. Truth be told, he doubted Sirius understood his own logic.

"Because I'm too cool to be the responsible one, I'm more of a rogue," Sirius decided, staring off into the distance as he complentated his statement.

The rest of the group watched the entire exchange, and suddenly knew that living with Harry Potter could be even more bizarre that he was so far. If only they would know better...

"Okay, I had this one idea, but I don't know how to make it into something special..." Harry proposed, scratching his head, but even he had time to start explaining.

"Don't," Sirius interrupted.

"Don't, what?"

"Don't overcomplicate things. Life is funny as it is. You just need to tweak a thing or two to let people see the humour." Sirius said, but he didn't even finish, when Harry's eyes literally lit up."You see, you've got it. Now, what's my part?"

"You? You do nothing," Harry said with a smile.

"Hey! That's no fun!" Sirius protested, his brow scrunching together in frustration and crossing his arms. He reminded Harry of Dudley when a new video game came out and he wasn't the first to get it.

"Oh, no. Just listen to me. Stay at the castle, catch up with Remus, take a stroll around the grounds or something like that, but do... nothing." Harry said, after which he begun to describe state Slytherin House was in, and what exactly he had in mind to "help things along". When he finished, Sirius thought that doing absolutely nothing was truely a great thing to do.

* * *

Christmas time passed, and couple of days later, students came back to prepare for another semester of studying. This year though, there was something unusual waiting for Slytherin students, when they came back to their dormitories. There, on their nightstand's, waiting for each and everyone of them, was waiting a small Christmas present. Unusual, because normally it would be sent to them one way or another, so it could be opened with every other. What made it so much stranger, was that they all were empty. No one had any idea what it might be all about, but they forgot about it soon enough.

Only one person in the entire house was exception of this, since she had a general idea what it was about, and her present wasn't entirely empty. But Rose thought that it wouldn't be wise to be bragging about either of those... Especially that she knew what would follow.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was laying in his bed, sleeping. Well, he was trying to sleep, but couldn't, since a noise of tapping was constantly reaching his ears. No, it wasn't exactly tapping, he decided. It was rather like someone would drum their fingers on the table top. After twisting and turning in his bed, still not being able to fall asleep, he got so irritated that he threw down his pillow. The fabric hid the picture of his mother tucked under there, and he sat up in bed once more.

"Would you stop that already?" he shouted to the air, not knowing who was listening.

Other boys in his dormitory, now fully awake, looked at him like he was crazy. He just sneered at them. Now that the tapping stopped, he paid no mind to their discomfort. Why should he? They weren't exactly paying attention to his, either. With that in mind, he turned on his side, and went to sleep. There was no tapping to keep him awake, and he thought it was over. He didn't know that it was just the beginning.


	43. Chapter 43

I wish writing would be more like creating music, at least in one aspect. If that would happen, then I could name this story:

Harry Potter by God B. Damned (J. K. Rowling cover)

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AN. EnjoyEveryMoment would be my producer.

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Defence is probably the most important thing a wizard must learn. And it isn't only in combat. During Salazar times, when wizards were only experimenting in search of limitations of magic, so many things could, and often did, go wrong, that even if you didn't try to, you quickly became proficient in protecting your skin. Because if you didn't... well, let's just say that Stonehenge isn't a pile of rubble because a simple breeze blew on it.

But in a fight, it is even more important. Wizards who use wands can cast spells at any time. The drawback of that is that the energy must travel to the designed place, thus giving your enemy chance to duck or shield it. While wandless magic didn't rely on that, using energy that was "hanging in the air", you first needed to wait for air to saturate with it.

Even in the past, when sorcerers were at the side of nearly every king, their true value in combat situation wasn't show when they were the ones with greatest kill score on a battlefield; because any wizard who was at least somewhat smart, wouldn't allow there to be a battle in the first place. It was so much easier to delay the oncoming army with bad weather, bad footing, when ground would turn into marsh under their very feet making the march so much tiring, or by simply spoiling their supplies. Even when that army was so persistent as to siege the castle in such conditions, it was just as easy to make the wine soldiers drunk instead of bad water slightly stronger, to have all of them lying at your feet.

Wizards rarely raged war. Their preferred way was to wait, make their enemy tire themselves out by fighting a battle they didn't even see, and then simply gather the weapons from soldiers who were too weak to carry them any further. An outright battle between countries that had wizards in their council commenced only when the situation was truly hopeless, and it was far easier to let people kill each other, than to make them talk to one another. Even then, wizards seldom fought.

But when it came to a fight, defence became their first nature, and it was for two reasons. First being the aforementioned "energy in the air". If you were a wizard, the term "home field" wasn't just a nicety. Fighting a wizard on his ground, was fighting him on his terms, because he could do anything he wanted with everything around him. On the other hand, finding himself on enemy grounds, he could do things only in his imminent surroundings, situation getting better and better with every second he stayed there. But in that precious first moment, his defensive skills were the difference between life and death.

Second reason, was because of the difference in muggle and wizards weapons. Muggles, with their swords, spears, and arrows, could apply varying layers of plating or rely on their dodging skills. No matter what armour did they wear, it could always be pierced, but even then, with multiple wounds all across their body, they could still fight on, or at least find safety. Wizards couldn't count on usual armours, because with a single spell, it could be used against them. And they couldn't chance being hit, if only once, because suddenly they could find them self without any body at all.

That was the mindset Harry had to get into. That you defend first and foremost, and only when situation shows that your opponent won't relent, you can do with him anything you want. Of course, when the mage got that far, unleashing everything in his arsenal, his enemy found himself in a true world of pain. Still, he at least could say that he gave the guy a chance to rethink his position on the matter...

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Chambers of the Slytherin House were like no other in the castle. Others had some designs to it, be it wing of the castle or it's tower. But Slytherin's dorms were underground, and if you would pass that initial stylish common room, you would find yourself in a maze. To give you some reference to it's general plan, imagine someone digging in a solid rock. Suddenly, they came to an obstacle, and instead finding a way to overcome it, just switched the direction they were digging and continued like nothing ever happened; but, what to do if you would come to a complete dead end? No problem there. Just back up 10 yards, pick a random direction, and continue.

After centuries of digging, many cave ins, excavations, remodelling's, findings of lost tunnels, rearranging, and generally trying to make sense of the whole mess, Slytherin dorms settled as a cluster of rooms to which, even knowing how to get where they were going, no one could draw an exact map. It could be a good thing for an ambitious person who was trying to organise a secret meeting, but in a situation like...

"STOP BANGING ON THE WALL!" Draco shouted, bursting into the room he thought the sound was coming from. Of course, since it was middle of the night, and he hadn't had a good nights sleep lately, only now did he realise that he was shouting at a group of sixth year boys.

"Or, what?" asked one of them, standing from his bed, everything about him saying that he was not in the mood to have a conversation of any kind.

Draco quickly glanced around the room, weighted his chances to score one or two points at an unwritten score board, attempted to pull himself to his full height, as to apear mighty, his attempts spoiled by his nightwear, which would be more suitable on a elderly person.

"Or my..." he begun to deliver his witty response, only to be interrupted by a chorus of:

"Yeah, your father will fire our fathers. We've heard it already." from everyone gathered in the room, which made him scowl.

"As for the banging, I think you can see it's none of us. Try room on the other side," one of the guys said, tapping a wall near him, "I think it's from that direction that yesterdays wails came from,"

"Nah, I checked it. It must be coming by the pipes." responded another one, woken up by the commotion "By the way, who would bang the pipes at two in the morning?"

"Bloody ghosts, I tell you." murmured the last occupant of the room, whom everyone else thought to be asleep.

"Shut up! All of you! I want to catch at least some sleep." said the first one, going back to sleep. "You still here?" he snapped at Malfoy, noticing him still standing in the door.

Draco sneered at them one last time, and went back to his own bed, hoping that banging did stop. It wasn't the only encounter of that type that night. In fact, over the last few days, there was surprising amount of similar conversations. But all the people, minding their own business, haven't exactly noticed a certain pattern, the most prominent give-away being that younger years were spared the misfortune everyone else was experiencing. And certainly, no one paid attention to a first year girl, strangely fascinated with what seemed to be a simple tabled. But if it was what it seemed to be, why would she be spending so much time on it, especially when everyone else went to sleep...

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Over time, situation in Slytherin House grew from bad to worse. Earlier, students from that house had to fight other houses, as to be seen as the better ones, and on top of that, continue that never ending "king of the hill" battle in their minds. Now, they had to fight their own bodies, which, given the growing lack of sleep, weren't doing so well. But still, they had to muster the strength to play the "I'm better than you" game, because every sign of weakness would be used against them. That, even more, forced behaviour, made the encounters that, from the start weren't exactly subtle, more vicious and humiliating, since no one had the strength to keep it going. There weren't any cases of physical violence, what with Slytherins preferring mind games and verbal abuse, but words can only take you so far...

It was good for them that their Head of House was on top of his game. Or was he?

"Something is going on, and I know it's them. It's always them!" Severus kept muttering, while pacing his office. "First you have a werewolf, and now that wretched Black! They're multiplying, I tell you! As if Potter wasn't enough! Potter, why you..." Potion's Master stopped so he could make the strangling motion with his hands at the exact height. "It's their fault. It's always their fault." Snape muttered, starting to pace again. "It can't be a coincidence that they're all here, all of a sudden. There must be a reason..." He stopped because a certain thought struck him. "They're planning something! I know it! I can feel it in my bones. I know that they're planning something... I don't know when, I don't know where... But they're planning to do something to me. Oh, they think that it will be that easy, don't they? I'll get them, I tell you! And when I do, they'll get expell- Bah! Prison! I'll get them into prison!"

This wasn't the only conversation of that type he had with himself that night, either.

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AN. Sorry for the delay, but I had exams, more coming soon, and my awareness of that fact doesn't get along well with my writing. I think another two chapters, and this year should be done.


	44. Chapter 44

Since I didn't get any Valentines signed "For J. K. Rowling" today, I don't believe I'm her. Truth be told... I didn't get any Valentines, of any kind...

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AN. EnjoyEveryMoment, tell me when you'll get the one I sent you.

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Of course, it would be nice for the idea of protecting yourself until the attacker rethinks it to work every single time, but as we all know it, there are situations in life that require the use of force. It doesn't even have to mean combat.

While muggles and wizards of modern times have very little in common, their counterparts from nearly thousand years ago, lived basically the same kind of life. In those times, people still had to think ahead when it came to those basic needs of food and shelter, and as muggles hunted, wizards did as well. Even if any wizard could transfigure them self a knife or a bow on a whim, they still experimented for magical substitutes, or thought out better ways to catch their game. When it came to building shelter, excavating great blocks of stone or smoothing them out couldn't be achieved by well wishing. Some energy had to be put into it.

It is said that in a random room, there is, on average, at least a hundred of deadly objects, not counting the room itself. Not because it is assumed that every person keeps a well stacked gun-rack, just in case, but because any household object could be used to do harm. That was why, even a beginning magician could be a formidable fighter, given that he knew how to apply his limited knowledge. Because, the difference between creation and destruction doesn't need to be the tools that you are using, but the outcome you are trying to achieve.

Of course, wizards were more knowledgeable, wise and understanding, but seeing as they were still human, even that couldn't save them from sporadic occasions when their emotional side came to surface. Muggles struggled with their emotions. Wizards struggled so much more, because of their power to do anything, if only they wished for it.

Normally, a mentor would be there, to talk that young magic user through it, but given that magic community was only beginning to form, it wasn't so uncommon to hear a stray story of a wizard surrounded by tragedy. Salazar didn't know, or didn't left himself memories regarding what was done with those kind of situation, he even wondered if that couldn't be the very first tear in muggle-wizard relations. But when it came to affairs between wizards, solution in form of duels was proposed. On top of dealing with the problem, duels served two purposes. First was that, since there was so little of them, no wizard wished for the other to die, banishment being the preferred solution, and unlike muggles, wizards closely watched their own. Second, it was easier to clean the destruction from designed place...

But when it came to duel itself, attack was rather important. With two wizards, people skilled at defence, it wouldn't be very effective if they stood there, defending against the attack that never came, but situations when duel ended before the first blow was deal happened, when one of the two admitted greater skills, control or focus of his opponent.

While attacking, wizards used the same energy that in defending, and it was probably the most significant difference between wizards now and in the past. Casting spells with the wand required a person to cast in sequence, casting only one spell at a time. Wandlessly, wizard could do even a hundred things at once, given that he could think how magic worked in every case. Downside of that was that he would quickly run out of energy to use, leaving him without means to attack or defend.

Wizards from those two periods exhausted them self in two different ways. Wand users didn't know the difference between physical or magical exhaustion. For them it felt like one and the same thing. Mages who were skilled in wandless magic, saw those as two different things. If wizard would constantly use magic that was coming from his body, like lighting the knot on an oil lamp, he wouldn't be any different than normal average person. He could still run, swim, fight, and of course, he would run out of breath by the physical exercise, but it would have nothing to do with the magic. The only way that wizard would experience magical exhaustion was for him to make his body deliver more magic than it was used to, say, instead of knot, lighting the oil itself. You will run on empty much faster than in the first case, and in case of wizards, much faster than they could replenish it.

That was why wizards thought that knowing yourself, is to be powerful. Because amount of magic available differed from person to person, based on their age, health, or even, what was their usual behaviour, and knowing them self, their limits, they could never come up short with it.

Salazar's style was to prepare his own field, to play with his opponent, to do tricks on him, lay traps and deceive him for so long, all the time waiting in the shadows, then just deliver the finishing blow. That was how he acted, and his magic responded to it.

Harry on the other hand, preferred to improvise, thinking quickly on his feet. Maybe more precise comparison would be that he fought like he played Quidditch. He would be on the defensive, dodging, circling, observing. But if only the opportunity showed itself, he would speed for it, precisely aiming for the weakness in enemy's armour, no matter how small it would be.

During their training, not on one occasion, Salazar discovered the hard way that he himself had a lot more learning to do...

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Sleep deprivation isn't the nicest thing you can experience in life. It isn't even near the middle of the list. With so many harmful effects, people should avoid loosing too much sleep, and treat any kind of insomnia as soon as possible.

But even if wizards lived longer than normal people and were generally healthier, no one ever tried to discover how they were different from muggles when it came to the way their minds worked. Or there was such a study, but the man responsible was Obliviated and study itself destroyed. Because the answer to that question was: Not as much as wizards would like.

Students living in the Slytherin house, although entirely unknowingly, were experiencing consequences of that fact. Not being able to fall asleep until late hours and being woken early, shortened their sleeping time from eight healthy hours, to five or six hours of restless sleep. Maybe it wasn't so evident at first, but over time those harmful side-effects kicked in. Irritability in itself have made already spiteful people a lot worse to live with, but it was nothing compared to what happened when confusion, memory lapses, and hallucinations came into play.

In environment like Slytherin common room, where everyone tried to think of ways how to end on top of things, no matter what would be happening, hallucinations could only be about other people trying to stab you in the back. That in itself was disconcerting, but given the aforementioned confusion and memory lapses, it was blown into an outright paranoia, because everyone's minds filled the blanks with actual memories of people trying to get them in one way or another.

Rose knew when the time came to take cover. Any person with a little mind would notice it. Suddenly Slytherin common room became quiet. There was no more of the usual spats and quarrels. People sat as far away from each other as they possibly could without leaving the room. Perfect example of "calm before storm". Because in that state, it would require only a little spark to...

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Severus Snape was a man with a mission. Given his hunch, he was certain that Lupin and Black would be trying something funny. He just had to catch them when they were setting things up. He was currently waiting, hidden behind a suit of armour in front of the werewolf's office, noting that the two of them were inside suspiciously long, and he should...

"Severus," reached him someone's voice.

"What!" he snapped at anyone stupid enough to disturb him. Then he noticed who it was. "Ah, Headmaster. What can I do for you?"

"I don't believe you have heard," Dumbledore said, gazing over his half-moon glasses at the man who was still hiding behind the suit of amour. "There is commotion in the Slytherin dorms"

"Ah! I knew it," Snape exclaimed, but instead of going in the direction of the dungeons, he turned and rushed to the door he was perviously observing. Albus regarded him with curious gaze for a while, but followed nevertheless, wanting to know what would come out of it.

"Surrender! Resistance is futile," Severus announced while bursting into the office with his wand drawn, and abruptly stopped short, as did Dumbledore when he came to his side, because the sight inside was truly something they weren't expecting to see.

Sirius Black and Remus Lupin were having a tea party. And no, it isn't just like having tea. It was more like a tea party little girls like to organise, with pretty pink tea set, which cupse were so small that you could barely put a pinkie in the handle. There was everything on the table, and the only thing that didn't make it a perfect picture was that there were people and not plush toys sitting at the table. Although, Albus was wondering where he could have seen that little elephant plush toy with a mailing bag strapped on it's shoulder that was currently sitting on the mantle.

"Ah, Severus, Headmaster. How swell. Why don't you join us?" voice of Remus Lupin reached them, and he gestured for them to sit down. They also noticed that Sirius managed to empty his cup, which roughly gave half a sip of tea, and refill it three times in the time when Remus spoken to them.

"Oh, stop pretending! And stop messing with my house!" Severus demanded, building up steam again.

"Pardon?" was the only reply from the two.

"You know what I'm talking about! There is commotion in the Slytherin..." he begun to tell just how they were responsible, but he was interrupted.

"Oh, no. That couldn't be. Maybe we could be of service? Calming things down will be much quicker with more people." Remus was telling, even when they set things right on their little table, and cleaned their faces with napkins that could be roughly the size of a stamp.

"You're not going there, because it's all your fault!" Potons Master shouted.

"Excuse me?" Sirius exclaimed back, taking great offence at Snape's words.

"Severus, I think you should calm down," Dumbledore said, putting calming hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I'm perfectly calm, can't you see that?" he responded with a face of a madman. "It's their fault. They're controlling it somehow and I'm going to prove it." then he aimed his wand at the tea set and muttered an incantation. Nothing happened. "So, it isn't the tea set. Fine!" he said, after which he turned to another object and tried again.

For another minute or two, Remus, Sirius and Albus stood there, watching Snape run rampart all over the room, casting revealing spells on every object possible, even flowerpots and curtains.

"Headmaster, shouldn't we go? You were saying something about commotion in the dungeons," Sirius finaly said.

"You boys go ahead. I think I need to speak with Severus in private," he responded, still watching his Potions instructor. Remus and Sirius looked at eachoter, shrugged, and went ahead to see what all the commotion was about.

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It was probably for the better that the very first person to reach Slytherin common room was Professor McGonagall, a witch that had at least a little connection to the muggle world. Everyone else would come down and see her standing in the door, so they begun to think what might have stopped in her tracks. But in that first instance, it took even her a while to connect all the dots...

She was running through the corridor, hearing banging noises coming from within, imagining all those explosions and destruction. She quickly gave the password, and even as the doors were opening she could see the smoke coming from inside, and through the crack, the lights travelling between the silhouettes. She thought how it was wrong for those young people to fight. But the very first sign that told her that something wasn't right between the image in her head and reality was the mirror ball spinning slowly under the ceiling.

Such a improbably item in a magic community stopped her at the threshold, and made her notice other details of the picture. The banging noise she thought to be the explosions, suddenly had a rhythm to it. Smoke wasn't dust like she thought, and wasn't coming from debris, but some machines hidden in the corners. Barricades in front of the entrance to the dormitories that she thought younger years took cover in, had a strange booth-like shape to it. The lights she could see before weren't spells, but just lights. And the people in the room, who she thought to be casting and dodging, and skipping to not be hit...

Suddenly it all became clear, and she stood there, dumbstruck, because it became apparent that everyone in the Slyherin house were pranked AGAIN. First their common room was changed to a "Eel diner", and now... to a muggle discotheque.

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AN. As you can see right at the beginning of this chapter, it was written around Valentines day. I had to go out to do some things... and I have completely forgotten about it. I thought that it was already posted. Sorry...

I should write another chapter in a day or two, which will be the end of 3rd book, and there should be more action in the following year, what with Tri-wizard Tournament and all.


	45. Chapter 45

I know it will come as a great shock to you, but I'm not J. K. Rowling. Seriously, I'm not... No, I will not sign that... No, you can't have one of my personal belongings... (being grabbed) Hey! Let go of me! (running away from the horde of fans...taking cover behind a dumpster) Now I remember why I don't want to be famous...

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AN. It's good that EnjoyEveryMoment had a car parked around the corner or I wouldn't be able to escape the mob, and you wouldn't have this chapter now.

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"When I first saw you I thought you have some secrets, but I would never... I mean, WOW. Pranking?" Remus said, still not believing the latest news he heard. "From your school-work I would assume that you were more like Lily, but just look at you..."

It was some time after the incident in Slytherin common room occurred that Harry and his friends, with Remus and Sirius as a bonus, were having a picnic on the grounds, enjoying one of the few free weekends before their end of term exams.

"Come on, tell us how you've done it," Sirius said, finally managing to catch his breath after another laughing fit, something he experienced every time he recalled the incident. "Not only to rearrange things for it to look like a discotheque, but to make everyone _dance_ in it? Bravo maestro, bravo!" he applauded Harry's skills.

"You said it yourself that I shouldn't overcomplicate things. It was easy enough that you should be able to find out how it worked without my help," Harry responded from his place under the lonely tree that stood by the Black Lake, looking like he was too comfortable to respond, rather than giving the 'old guys' an opportunity to prove their skills.

"Okay, getting decorations there is easy. Shrink things and unpack them inside. Since it worked, you probably did exactly the same thing as the first time, right?" Remus voiced his thoughts, being the brainy one in the Marauders.

"Delivery wasn't quite the same, but close enough," Harry allowed, still leaning against the tree-trunk with his eyes closed.

"But the tricky part is, how did you get them on the 'dance floor'? " Sirius asked the obvious question, not wanting to be outdone by his friend. "I mean, you couldn't have confounded them all, could you?"

"I promise to you that I didn't cast a single spell on anyone from Slytherin," Harry said, smiling, because he knew how much his godfather was irritated about now knowing how it had been done, and that he hadn't thought about it before. "To tell you the truth, I, personally, had nothing to do with them..."

Sirius and Remus stopped at that, thinking about what he just said, about his choice of words, and just when they were trying to ask "But who did?"

"You're starting the party without me?" someone's voice reached them from just over the hill. Then that someone came into view, and the adults sat there, quite shocked. Never before had they seen any Slytherin simply walk to a mixed group of students, hand an elephant toy to Harry, since Luna was giving sunbathing another try, and take a place on their blanket like it was the most normal thing to do. Okay, even without a strange toy in the middle, it was still a peculiar sight.

"No way," Sirius muttered, staring at the young girl that just came into picture. "Don't tell me you convinced a Slytherin to do the dirty work for you," he asked Harry, at which Rose snorted.

"Nope. We just share the same belief," Harry responded while playing with Seizie.

"Which is?" Sirius asked impatiently, drumming his fingers on the brightly coloured, and knowing his grandson, possibly enchanted, blanket.

"That ambition is pointless if you don't have anything to back it up with, " Rose responded, seeing as Harry wasn't going to be helpful. "Slytherin House have more traits than just ambition, cunning being the closest. It's just that people seem to forget about it and quarrel about things that aren't there in the first place. Slytherins as they are now just irritate me to no end," she said with disgusted face, making Remus and Sirius exchange glances. "So, they had to see just how idiotic they are," she finished with a shrug.

"But still, how did you make them dance?" Sirius demanded, being on the brink of pouting.

Harry just chuckled for a while. "Show them," he said simply.

Rose fished a small tablet out of her pocket and handed it to Remus. At first it seemed as nothing strange, just a pad with buttons on it. It was only when he noticed labels on those buttons that he became completely stupefied.

"A fly, dripping water, tapping, snoring, wails, banging... What the hell is this?" Remus asked, handing the tablet to the now-very-interested Sirius. Harry just chuckled more.

"I told you once. Sirius telling me not to overcomplicate things just solved everything. I suddenly thought, how Slytherin's, the elite they thought they were... how would they deal with things that normal, average person deals with while living in a box of flats."

"Furniture moving... Holy crap! Tap-dancing?" Sirius exclaimed, still getting through some of the more interesting things on the list.

"Okay, I might have overdid it. But just a little," Harry admitted.

"He told me how it worked, and told me to play with the buttons whenever I liked," Rose piped in. "I think the "timer" button got slightly worn off."

Remus blinked at the two. "Let me get this straight. You two managed to turn entire Slytherin house into a bunch of insomniacs? You're evil, you know that, right?"

Harry just chuckled again, and it wasn't best thing he could have done, because right at that moment he was petting Seizie like any Dark Overlord would do with his pet. Seizie didn't help at all, staring back at Remus with her unblinking button-eyes.

"In that state of mind they could have done something stupid as hurt one another," Remus continued, maintaining his status as the most responsible in the group.

"You really think that any person that is so superior as average Slytherin is could do anything without their wand?"

"Now I know that you're making things up. You couldn't disarm the entire house without rising suspicion." Sirius said while shaking his head.

"Hey, is it my problem that they don't keep track of where their wands are? Or that they can't distinguish a proper wand from a piece of wood?" Harry said with that irritating kind of smile that people achieved only when they knew more than the person they were speaking to.

"Okay, I'm understanding less and less with every passing minute. Could you please tell us how it all worked?" Remus finally asked, huffing in exasperation.

"If you're asking so nicely how could I say no?" Harry begun. "It's quite easy, actually. You charm boxes you smuggle decorations in, to emit certain sounds and store a wand when you ask it to," he stated the words like they explained everything.

"No, wait, it wouldn't work. How would you get that many boxes inside without raising suspicions, and you can't simply state that it 'stores a wand'; I don't know any charm that would react to that. Not saying anything about how much you bet that those boxes would stay there to emit those sounds," Remus pointed out, probably not remembering any more that they were talking about something that had actually worked.

"Many boxes exchanged during Christmas isn't that suspicious. And you just need to add to the package a note saying 'Touch with your wand to open', and it works fine," Harry said with a casual shrug.

Sirius' jaw dropped. "And every single Slytherin touched his wand to something just because a note said them to?"

Rose snorted at that. "Not only that, after the few first noticed that there were empty, others thought that it was some kind of lottery, so they were basically fending each other off."

"Wait, but you said open. Wouldn't that show them what's inside?" Remus asked.

"Even if you can't see anything, it doesn't mean that there's nothing within," Harry responded while pointing at sleeping Seizie.

"But they should have thrown it away. I mean, who would keep an empty gift-box?" Sirius voiced an obvious question, seriously wondering what other strange habits the Slytherins had. And if people could use them to their advantage, but he didn't tell anyone that.

"Ah, but you forget that we're talking about people that think they're above everything. They think their garbage vanishes by itself, Harry continued explaining, wondering why some people skimmed over obvious things. Maybe because it was just so obvious. "Meanwhile, House-elves that clean the castle, like any other House-elf, feel the purpose of an object, or lack of thereof. If an object served its purpose, it's garbage which should be cleaned up. But if at least one person feels that it should be there... Well, that's entirely different story."

"_Who_ cleans the castle?" Hermione interjected, tearing herself away from her book when Harry mentioned house-elves. Harry seeing her penetrating gaze just mouthed 'later', knowing that she would need an in-depth explanation. She wasn't pleased by that, he knew that from the look she gave him, but he also knew that she would have to wait.

"And you're telling me that they haven't noticed those boxes still lying around, and haven't connected it to the mysterious sounds that begun appearing?" Remus' voice brought him to their previous conversation.

"I told you; they're idiots," Rose repeated herself.

"So you didn't charm them to dance?" Sirius asked in the end. "Then what was that all about?"

"That was the mighty and superior house of Slytherin having an open fight in their own common room," Harry delivered with a straight face.

There was exactly five seconds of utter silence, and after that Sirius descended into another fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"But you're telling me that they haven't noticed they weren't casting any spells?" Remus asked, dumbfounded.

"Seeing just how under-slept they were, I wondered how they were standing," Rose said, raising her eyebrows slightly.

"And why do you suppose there was so much light in that room?" Harry said with a smile. "I would bet you could count one for every single person in that house." That was the final straw on the camel's back for Remus, and he too couldn't hold his laughter.

"And that's what I call cunning," Rose said in a way that just Harry could hear. "Make people fight with each other and mask it as a prank. And while everyone is looking for the second meaning, or the cover up story, they don't even expect that what they've just seen is the cover story and the second meaning is just an insult to the injury," she said with a smile and then frowned because he didn't respond. He just sat there with that infuriating knowing smile on his face, like there was still more to it... Harry Potter knew all too well that his fun was far from over.

* * *

"Okay, now spill it," Hermione demanded when there was only her and Harry left. He just smiled at her in a 'need to know' fashion.

"Do you think that we're learning about every single magical animal there is during Care of Magical Creatures?" Harry asked, always beginning his explanations with a question.

"Of course not," Hermione replied immediately.

"But how many sentient magical beings can you name? Not counting goblins of course."

That stopped Hermione short, because quite frankly, she haven't thought about it before.

"That's the thing. People seem to think that if in mundane world you have only us, humans, then there of course is only one equivalent in magical community. But truth is, there is more than that. And there was even more, before they begun to die out. Now if you ask about House-elves, you must know that bonding them self to humans was their way of adapting to changing circumstances. Their way of surviving. At first they were like another person in the family, helping here and there, and working for their stay by housework. It was only when people noticed that they had no other place to go that they begun to be mistreated, and in time, turned into slaves,"

"But that's horrible! We should help them!" Hermione exclaimed, and Harry noticed where her train of thought was going.

"Let me show you," he simply said, and then called, "Dobby!"

"Yes, Harry Potter?"

Hermione turned her head sharply to watch the person who seemed to just appear out of thin air. She was about to comment that it wasn't possible to apparate on Hogwarts grounds, but then she noticed something peculiar about that small person.

Nearly a year with a 'proper' wizard did wonders to Dobby. He no longer looked like a dried prune, and even if he still had wrinkles. He reminded her more of an older person than the shrivelled humanoid creature he was before. The only thing that hadn't really changed was his height, and even if he stood straight, no longer covering, he still was barely half the size of an adult person.

But it wasn't how he looked that shocked Hermione the most, but his attire. He was wearing an old fashioned tuxedo, with a strangely looking white flower in the pocket on his chest. She looked at him and all she could think of was a picture of the perfect butler.

"Was Harry Potter needing anything?" Dobby questioned, bringing Hermione back from her constantly deep thoughts.

"Harry, is that..." she left the question hanging, then turned back to her friend. "Don't tell me you own a house-elf," she snapped in shock.

"No, I don't. He's my room-mate." Hermione had a confused look on her face, so he explained further. He was doing a lot of that today. "He uses my room at the Dursley's when I'm not there. In return he keeps it clean, helps around the house a little, you know, normal stuff. By the way Dobby, how're things going over there?"

"Harry Potter's relatives are doing well. Although Harry Potter's uncle is beginning to wonder why he hasn't needed to trim the grass for the last few months," Dobby responded while looking around the grounds.

"Harry, why does he keep calling you by your full name?" Hermione interrupted, focusing on small things to help herself deal with the big picture.

"Ah, that's why I called Dobby here. By the look in your face that you had just a minute ago, I think you had the idea to immediately free all the elves in the world," Harry said, and that soft blush on Hermione's face was all the answer he needed. "But you can't do that. House-elves are quite different from us. Think of it as a country on the other side of the globe. Even if you don't understand the customs, you can't simple tell everyone to do as you tell them. Take for instance your question. Dobby calls me by my full name because in the house-elf community, everyone has a single word name, like Dobby here. So basically, he thinks that Harry Potter is somehow one word. An average elf will refer to a person the way they have been introduced, even if you include all of their titles into it. Isn't that right, Dobby?"

"I believe that Harry Potter is right," the elf responded, still watching the grounds.

"So, if you will try to free a house-elf like they are now, you probably will meet a response suitable if you would be trying to murder them."

"But we must do something. I mean, you said it yourself that Dobby is free," Hermione said, not liking that there would be nothing she could do to help the poor creatures.

"Yes, Dobby is free. But I'm talking about an average house-elf, and the truth is, they don't know how to be free. Even look at Dobby. He was an house-elf of the Malfoys'." That piece of information shocked Hermione. "Since Malfoys are idiots, and purebloods to boot, which technically makes it official, they've mistreated him, not understanding that every sentient animal experiences stress. Give him some space, and he dealt with it, but even now, look at him."

Hermione turned again, and watched Dobby standing there for a while.

"So?" she asked, not noticing anything strange.

"You don't see it?" Harry prompted.

"What am I looking for? He's just standing there," Hermione snapped back, slightly irritated that she was missing something that was probably so obvious.

"That's just it, he's standing there. Or more exactly, waiting."

After Harry said that, she did noticed that slight difference. At first she thought that Dobby was standing there admiring the views. Why standing? Maybe he didn't want to dirty his tuxedo... But now it indeed looked like he stood, almost at attention, just waiting for something to do.

"You see, you can't free a house-elf, because he wouldn't know what to do with it. House-elves don't know how to be free. A free house-elf will try to find a new master, or simply something to do. If not, then they will despair, since they have the need to be useful in their blood. And you can't give them anything different than servitude right now, because the problem that brought them to this kind of life still stays unsolved."

"Which is?" Hermione questioned absent-mindedly, still observing Dobby. Only when she didn't get any reply from Harry did she turn, just to see him staring at the darkening sky.

"Next year," he said, finally turning to her. "I know that you need to know, but to explain it properly we would need more time than we have now. And I don't want to start it now and not be able to finish, because you just might blow up over the summer," at which Hermione smiled sheepishly.

She thought about it for a while, but nodded in the end, trusting him just enough to keep her curiosity at bay. While Hermione went ahead, Harry stayed to say goodbye to Dobby. But when he was trying to catch up with her:

'At last you're getting on with it,' said a voice that he knew all too well.

'With what; Hermione?' he asked, at which Salazar looked at him curiously.

'No, I meant acquiring your own apprentices. You wouldn't be able to change everything by yourself."

'Yeah, I know,' Harry muttered tiredly.

'But,' Slytherin added, 'That young lady is rather nice if I can say so myself.'

Harry didn't comment, just smiled at the idea of his master approving of... He stopped short, and looked at the girl waiting for him by the gates. Silently, he simply smiled.

* * *

Examination period went by in a flash, with the usual chaos of panicking students over-exaggerating their mistakes. Harry and his friends, given their regular studying, they had no problems with passing their exams, even if Hermione kept complaining about how they could have had better scores, even before the results were posted. Given all that, they were usual exams.

It was, until it didn't come to the Divination exam. Harry was the last person, and just as he was going to walk out after he was done, something stopped him in his tracks.

"_It will happen tonight__,"_ said an ominous voice. He turned just to come face to face with Sibyl Trelawney who, even being just inches from him, didn't seem to notice that he was there. Instead, she was speaking to the entire room, hoping that anyone would listen.

"_The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has been chained these twelve years. Tonight, before midnight... the servant willbreak free and set out to rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight... before midnight... the servant... will set out... to rejoin... his master..._"

Then she collapsed on the floor, and when she opened her eyes again, she seemed to be convinced that she must have slipped and lost consciousness.

Harry didn't question that story, thinking his Divination teacher deserved some credit after all. He went to contact Sirius, telling him all about the prediction, and Sirius took it on himself to make sure that Pettigrew stayed locked. They Harry waited. But in the morning nothing happened, Pettigrew didn't run, and Harry was left disturbed by the fact that a true prophecy had to be fulfilled, one way or another...

* * *

Obliviation is an art of erasing memories from the minds of the subject. Yes, it deserves a title of art. Seeing just how complicated human brain is, it isn't quite that easy to remove something, without messing everything else up. Slytherin, of course would make comment that it was a stupidity, a child's play, or something more insulting. A big hole in a memory is too obvious of a sign that there is something wrong. A master of sorcery would at least cover it up by remodelling memory for the subject to go around the entire event, thus not noticing the gap. It was relatively easy too, just fill the gap with another memory, something dull and boring would be good, and smooth out the edges for it to fit, giving a perfect picture of a day no one would want to remember in the first place. But still it was too much work. There are so many ways to make someone forget something, like convincing them that the entire thing was a vivid dream. A very vivid one indeed...

But no matter how you manipulate one's memory, you can't entirely remove the effects of it from the person's life. Average person suffering from amnesia still can write, maintaining the same handwriting, or speak in any language they know. The thing is, that person doesn't remember where or when they learnt to do that. So, even if you would obliviate persons entire memory, leaving the mind itself intact, you still wouldn't have removed everything. The greatest shortcoming being muscle memory.

Bartemious Crouch Sr., over couple of weeks after the end of school year, begun questioning himself over some actions he was performing. At first he thought that it was just slight memory loss from overworking himself. He didn't remember where he might have left half of his clothes, or what he had done so his own House-elf wasn't behaving like she used to. Then he caught himself on checking his wife's bedroom every hour or two. From that point on he slipped into depression, thinking about his wife. About a part of his life that was missing.

And of course, he was right. There was a part of his life that was there one minute, just to be gone another. He just couldn't remember that he was mistaken about who it was...

* * *

AN. This chapter doesn't look entirely like I imagined it, but it will have to do.


	46. Chapter 46

Does anyone know when the J. K. Rowling look-alike contest is held? I want it official that I'm not her... or at least not like her in any way.

* * *

AN. I heard somewhere that I should enjoy every moment that I spend with EnjoyEveryMoment... Do you guy sometimes have a deja vu?

* * *

Even if Harry was mentally preparing himself for even a slight surprise when he arrived from school, as it was at this point usual, he didn't quite expect the scale of the change. That year, coming back to the Dursley household was like entering a completely different world. And no, it had nothing to do with magical and muggle community.

Up until this point in time, the house of the Dursley family was like a mosquito drowned in amber that you can see in some museums. Well, no, it didn't quite resemble mosquito. It was that it always looked the same. At some point, or maybe over time, the interior of the house was changed into a perfect 'How a house of a happy family should look like' exhibition, and with Petunia's cleaning habits, you could bet that things were always were they were meant to be. As far as Harry remembered, the house was always the same way.

This year though, it changed. And to say it was simple would be a lie. The change was radical. Dursley's not only rearranged their furniture. They completely refurnished their house. Old couches that would fit perfectly in a conference room were thrown away, being replaced by something you wouldn't mind spending entire evening in, or even sleeping on it the entire night. Vernon even bought an armchair he always wanted to have, but it didn't quite go along well with the previous set up. Even the 'official' paint colour from the walls was replaced with something you could look like and not think of a waiting room. Seeing just the living room when he stepped into the house, Harry couldn't believe how the same building, with same people, and just a little paint, suddenly felt so much more cozy.

He then received the greatest shock when it came up that the bulk of the job was done by his uncle, with the help of Dudley whenever he was around. Harry thought that there was no way that his uncle didn't hire an entire crew to do the job spot on, and was just joking around. Then he started noticing things.

His aunt no longer stayed all day long by the window, spying on other people, instead bringing her long forgotten knitting set, writing letters to some long lost friends that she actually knew, or simply doing a crossword puzzle once in a while. His uncle didn't sit in front of the TV all day long after he got back from work. He helped Dudley with his training when he was there, or just did something around the house that was actually fruitful, or just plainly fun, like wrestling his son to the ground once in a while.

Seeing all that, Harry thought that it's strange how much changed since the visit of Marge last summer. Now his uncle laughed more, his aunts smile wasn't all that forced, and for the first time in his life, Harry wondered if staying away during Christmas wasn't such a good idea...

Of course, then his restless brain spoiled that by thinking about the word 'change'. There was something that he have forgotten during his magical training with Slytherin, and only now remembered to ask Sirius about.

* * *

Couple of days later he got back a letter from Sirius, which begun with how proud he was that his godson was following the footsteps of such great people. Of course, knowing Sirius, he was talking about himself, Harry thought. But as he was going through the list of books that could be useful, potions he would need to brew, and general list of exercises... a disgruntled noise caught him by surprise. He turned just in time to notice Salazar fading out of view. So, he lay down in his bed, and getting into meditative state he learned so long ago, followed his mentor into his own sub-consciousness.

* * *

"What? What's wrong?" Harry asked, finally catching up to Slytherin on a small hill near the marsh his house was in.

"Are you kidding me?" his mentor replied angrily. "Drink some potions, follow schedule of exercise sessions and you're done? This is bloody ridiculous. They've done a mockery out of the process, like always getting things to the point when a moron could do it. Point one: switch off your brain. Point two: Mindlessly follow orders," he snarled.

From time to time, Harry could see why it was so easy to portray Slytherin as a person of the worst kind.

"I remember stories of the real thing," he continued in a more sedated voice, "Once, our culture was based on a tribal system, and so, there were hunting tribes scattered all around the world. Those people, when they went for a hunt, they didn't read tracks. They didn't try to decipher what they mean. Instead, they stopped thinking, and started being the animal itself. They would run where the animal had run, crawl when it did. They'd jump, rest, eat, and do everything else just like the animal had done. From their own instincts they knew where the animal went, simply by following the flow of the tracks. They weren't tracking. They were animals going the same way their predecessor did. When wizards were born in those tribes and were proficient enough in tracking, they simply switched their form," Salazar told him with a faraway look. "Now? Drink something to know what is the form you can achieve easiest, and then slowly pull that skin on yourself? I think the only thing stopping every person from doing it is the lack of skills in wandless magic to do the exercises that are bloody pathetic," he snapped, getting angry again.

"So, you have to spend years to become an animagus?" Harry asked out of interest, and partly to get Slytherin out of his bad mood.

"Yes, it is a proper way," Salazar responded, getting back on track, "I constantly remind you how understanding is important in wizards life, and this is an example of that. But," he stopped, searching something in his memory, "there is another way. It is faster, but tricky. And I don't have to tell you that faster is the opposite of safer, don't I?"

"Yes, I know, but if someone would like to do that?" Harry pressed on.

"Then you would have to..." Slytherin begun to explain, but had no chance to finish as Harry lost his consciousness, being hit with something on the back of his head. As his body started to fall, Salazar could see Magie standing behind the falling boy with a blank look on her face, and a bat in her hand.

She blinked, taking in her surroundings, just in time to watch Harry fall through the ground, like it wasn't solid at all, instead being a strangely formed water surface.

"What did I just do?" she asked after noticing the bat in her hand, which she immediately dropped.

"Don't worry child," Salazar said softly, "You did well,"

* * *

It was evening already and Harry was still lying in his bed, calm, hovering on the fringe of sleep, when suddenly sweat begun to appear on every inch of his body. It was only visible sign of a small pandemonium raging throughout his body. Every muscle in his body was in spasms, his organs torn between a complete stop and overproduction. His whole body was ringing every single alarm bell it had that there was something wrong going on, not understanding signals that were coming from his brain. And in his brain, was the place where the true battle was going on.

* * *

Falling. That was all Harry knew. He was falling.

Or was he? There was no wind tousling his hair, only this pitch black emptiness in every direction. He wasn't even sure if his eyes were open. He remembered darkness from his training with Salazar, but this was nothing like it. This was more disorienting. With Slytherin, he at least knew where up and down was.

Having nothing else he could do, he started looking around. He raised his head, and sure enough, he could see his own body, but nothing else.

"Wait a minute," he muttered, thinking about what he just did. "Now at least I know where up is."

Since he could move, he stood up. Looking around, he once more reassured himself that this was nothing like the Room of Requirements. There, even when it was completely dark, you felt that the room had some boundaries. Here, it was only this overwhelming darkness and nothing more; nothing which could indicate that the darkness ever ended.

Then, with no previous warning, something appeared right in front of him. Startled slightly, he concentrated on the item that was just hanging in front of him.

"A dagger?" Harry asked himself when he noticed what it was, "Why would I need a..." he stopped abruptly. He raised his hand and tried to summon it, but nothing happened. He tried again, this time to make some sort of light, and still, nothing happened. "Okay," he muttered to tell himself being sure enough that he couldn't use magic.

He once again concentrated on the dagger. It was rather non-descriptive. Just a simple blade with a handle, all made from steel. Seeing nothing else to do, he grabbed it, cold handle warming in his hand. Moments after he did that, just as unexpectedly blade have arrived, there was a flash of light in the distance, and after the spots dancing in Harry's eyes stopped, he could see a pair of glowing eyes some distance from him.

"Is this my animal?" he started to ask himself, but hadn't even got to half way through when the eyes started to charge at him. He ducked out of habit, and knew that something sharp had just barely missed his head. Harry quickly thought about what he might have done to anger it, but it was short lived, as another strike went his way, this time grazing his leg as he wasn't quick enough to evade the strike fully.

He couldn't guess how long he was rolling, jumping or dodging in any other way he could at the moment. He couldn't understand what type of animal he was facing, because he was struck by so many things like claws, hangs or talons, that he lost count. He had no idea what was his goal. Did he have to win the fight against his animal? Tame it in some way? If so, how could he do that?

He looked at the glowing eyes that were constantly coming closer. He lowered his head to take a deep calming breath and prepare himself for the next round, when his eyes caught sight of the dagger which he was still holding, even as he forgot about it in the middle of the fray.

"Okay," he whispered tiredly., "Let's get this over with," he said louder, while fixing his grip n the rough leather covering the handle, and launched himself in the direction of the glowing eyes.

* * *

It could have been hours, days, weeks or even months. There was no way to know how much time passed in the pitch black darkness of his mind. No matter in what units you wanted to measure it in, all Harry knew that he was running out of time.

On the outside though, it wasn't even half a minute since his body started to fight itself. But, where at first there was only sweat covering his body, as time passed by, bruises, cuts or scratches appeared. What was more disconcerting about them was that they didn't look like the usual type you see every day. Those covering his body looked like they were done from the inside. Like there was something clawing its way out.

Suddenly, his body arched; all muscles tense. Then he slumped onto his bed, unmoving...

* * *

He was tired, and that was all he knew at the moment. He wasn't even sure how he was able to stand on his own feet.

Nothing worked. Whatever punch he threw at the thing he was fighting, it went straight through it, like there was nothing beside those glowing eyes hovering in nothingness. Moments later though, he was cut, stabbed, and torn by something sharp, by some sort of animal.

He couldn't comprehend it. He doubted he would ever understand it. But he was too tired to think. Only thing he could do seemed to be dropping to the ground, unconscious or dead. Seeing how things looked right now, it was probably the same thing.

But then, in that moment of total exhaustion, when he had to remind himself to breather, one single thought floated from the back of his mind.

"Stop thinking," said a voice strangely reminding him of Magie.

"Be the animal," Harry finished the sentence from Salazar's lecture, and then plunged the fang shaped blade resting in his hand straight through his own heart.

Time stopped. For a second, or a whole millennium, there were only Harry's body floating in nothingness, and those glowing eyes. They were watching him intently; maybe even judging.

In the end, they closed really slowly, as if time only now tried to resume its flow. But when they opened again, it wasn't just a glow emanating from them. In its place, there was a source of light so bright, that it was painful to look at it. The light spread, washing over the pitch black emptiness. And when every single dark spot was gone...

* * *

"Welcome back."

Harry blinked. He was lying on the ground with the noon sun shining right over his face. He tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes, but he couldn't. It was too heavy. Everything felt too heavy to lift or even attempt to move.

"No wonder. After everything I've been through..." he said, only second later reminding himself why he spoke his thoughts out loud.

"I think it would be easier if you took if off first," said the same voice that woke him.

He looked in the direction the voice was coming from, and noticed Slytherin sitting comfortably in the shade of a tree growing nearby.

"Take what off?" he asked, and Salazar just cocked his head. "I see, as helpful as ever," Harry grumbled. But then he felt that indeed there was something different.

He lifted his head from the ground, and noticed what Slytherin meant. He was dressed in a long black coat. Slowly, he untangled himself from it, and even if he wasn't entirely fine, it was far easier to move without it. While Harry was catching a breath, Salazar came along and picked the coat from the ground.

"What is this thing?" Harry asked, eyeing the item that came out of nowhere.

"Oh, don't tell me you would like to go through what you just did every time you would like to change your form," Salazar said jokingly, making Harry scowl at him.

Then Harry stopped remembering something. "That's what you meant about people forcefully pulling skin of the animal on themselves."

"Yes," Slytherin agreed, "Not only wizards used that expression. Muggles too wore skins of animals, even when they had better materials, or even necklaces from their bones, teeth or claws. It was commonly thought that keeping those items close, would lend you the power of that animal. It worked best if you were the one to slay the animal. A natural rite of passage, if you will. Of course, normally it was only boosting that person mental image of himself, natural charisma, strength or any other quality doing rest of the job when that person wasn't doubting them self, but in your case..." he left it hanging, simply patting the coat on his arm.

"Wait, but I haven't really won... have I?" Harry asked, not quite sure what really happened.

"You don't quite understand it, do you?" Salazar questioned, "Well, I don't really blame you, it's the whole point of this thing," he added with a chuckle. Seeing confusion on Harry's face, he continued. "I warned you that this way is really tricky, because what you have to do is to think of a way, to not think at all. The basic difference between random animals and humans is that human beings think, animals act on instinct. You know that there were many experiments to discover just how intelligent animals were. What people found out is that some animals can do complicated mathematical calculations in their head. But it isn't that that animal thinks of it like any mathematician would. They just do it, without ever thinking about it."

Harry listened to it, and reminded himself about the encounter with the glowing eyes. The first time they attacked was when he was thinking what they could be, and every next attack occurred when he was thinking what he could do. Even every time he was hurt was exactly when he was wondering what he was fighting with.

"There wasn't any animal, right?" Harry asked, coming back from his memory.

"No. To say it simply, this is your mind," Salazar said, pointing to everything around them, "And below," he added tapping his foot on the ground, "are your primal instincts. You went with your mind to that place, and since thinking, in terms of an animal, is over-thinking things... well, let's just say that they don't get well with each other,"

Hearing that, Harry just snorted.

"Well, modern wizards may have some right in Point One, but for a skilled wizard, it's all that it takes," Slytherin said with a small smile.

That triggered something else in Harry's memory; more precisely, the dagger that he was given. There was something strange about it. It seemed like it had...

"Changed," Harry muttered, wide eyed, "So, it wasn't about what I was fighting, but about the..." he turned to Salazar, to make sure he was making at least a little sense, but his mentor just shook his head.

"I know not what happened when you were gone. What I spoke until now was just theory. Precise circumstances of this way aren't fully known, since so few managed to accomplish it,"

"Few? Like, how few?" Harry asked, being thrown off track like that.

"I would have to say, you're the third one," Slytherin said with a nod.

"Wait, three that you know of?" Harry asked, a little unsettled by the answer.

"No, three that are known in history. Well, not including the last thousand years, but I don't really think anything changed in that short period of time," Salazar said offhandedly, making Harry's jaw drop to the ground.

"What!" Harry shouted.

"I was trying to tell you all about the precautions that one can take. To say the truth, I wonder how close you were to death. But the truth is that it was you that wanted it so bad that your magic reacted on instinct," Salazar said with a stern face.

That reminded Harry about something entirely else. "Where's Magie?" he asked, troubled that she was nowhere around.

"I believe she went to her house. It would be wise to check on her," Salazar said, even as Harry was already going to see her.

As he went further, the weather changed. First, the sun was blocked with thick clouds, and then a strong wind begun to blow. Reminding himself where he was, Harry wondered if it was because the bad feeling that he was experiencing, or something entirely else.

Finally arriving at Magie's house, he went straight to her room, only to find it locked.

"Magie?" he called after knocking softly couple of times without answer.

"Magie?" he tried a little louder, while grabbing the handle.

"Magie, please. I know you're in there," he said once more while leaning his head against the door. He heaved a sigh, and as he was just turning to walk away, there was a response. It was just a faint click of the door slowly unlocking.

Walking into the room, Harry noticed her sitting at the windowsill, with her hands wrapped around her legs and chin on her knees, staring out of the window. And only just now he realised, that it was raining outside.

"I didn't know that the weather changed here," he commented, not knowing what else he could say in this obviously awkward situation.

"It does. But it doesn't rain all that often," Magie responded, not looking his way, simply trailing her fingers after raindrops flowing on the other side of the glass.

They stayed that way, in uncomfortable silence. She was watching the rain. He contemplated what might be bothering her.

"It's just..." she begun before stopping, and he was again reminded that she knew when he was in need. That or simply the fact that there were no secrets between them.

"I don't want to be alone." she whispered, still looking outside.

Harry blinked in surprise. "Alone?" he asked while taking one step closer to her "Why not move to the city, with everyone else?"

"I couldn't live there," she said, stopping him with her hand.

Harry followed her gaze, and he could see the town in the distance. But it didn't look anything like it usual, mighty self. With rain blurring the shapes and whole town enveloped in some kind of odd mist, it made a really ominous picture. Harry couldn't help but think of a ghost town.

"But with everyone there..." he tried again.

"They aren't real," she cut him off.

"But..." Harry wanted to argue.

"You don't see it," Magie interrupted. "But they are only your thoughts. If you don't read about or ponder some things, they don't change. Talking with them is like listening to those dolls that talk. You can pull that string all you want, but eventually you'll just hear the same lines, playing in a loop. They aren't real," she repeated. "You are," she added and looked at him for the first time. He could clearly see sadness in her usually playful eyes. "And I don't want to lose you, in any way, over some stupid thing," she finished, and Harry was too aware of the cuts all over his body.

"You won't," Harry answered with a smile, coming closer so that he was standing just beside her, "Because you're always there to save my sorry ass," he said, at it actually made corner of his mouth quirk a little. "Like today." she cocked her head when he mentioned that, "Bah, today was a small fry, imagine how I would grow up without you. A loner who blames himself over everything bad in the world, and, the worst thing possible," Harry lowered his voice dramatically, "not knowing anything about joking around!" he gasped, "Oh, the horror! The terror! The tragedy!" Harry kept lamenting over the vision.

Magie laughed out loud over his act, and then threw her arms around him, keeping him close. Harry hugged her back, simply being there for her.

"I'm alright," he finally said.

"I know," she responded.

"And I won't do it again... well, at least not without you," Harry added, smiling.

"You better not," was all he got in return.

They stood like that for a while, and then "Come on, let's have some fun. I heard there is something fun in the cinema tonight," Harry proposed, and was startled by the:

"You wish, Potter!" that Magie delivered with a mean face. "I'm not interested in being your girlfriend," she added while pushing him back. "I'm too fun for you!" she said while admiring her own nails. Harry just grinned in response.

"I'm much more fitting for the role of a sister poking her nose in her brother's businesses and annoying him to no end," she said with a nod.

"I thought you already were doing that," Harry replied, getting himself a punch in the shoulder for his trouble.

For the rest of the time before Harry was too tired to stay awake, the two of them spent like they were used to when Harry was a kid, just joking around together, and admiring the rainbow that appeared on the clearing sky.

* * *

Slytherin didn't joke saying that this way was extremely dangerous, and even as Harry lived to speak about it, the next couple of days weren't exactly a walk in the park thing. To give you an example, try to train extensively for twenty four hours straight, and then deal with the muscle ache. And that was only the muscles. With every organ responsible for production of substances like hormones or enzymes having to reboot, it wasn't the best day of his life when Harry finally woke up.

His aunt even wanted to get him to a hospital, but Salazar told that it was best not to. Since his body did it to itself, it would just need time to get things straight again. Introducing alien substances to the already messed up system wouldn't speed things up in any way. When Harry commented that it would at least be less painful, Slytherin responded that he was an idiot.

"Think of a pain as a teacher. First it points out, very effectively, the place where the problem is. Additionally, if you distinguish the type of pain, if it's stabbing, tearing, an unbearable pressure to name some, you can learn even more, and deal with the problem in best way possible. But even when you do, it doesn't vanish instantly. It stays, reminding you to not overuse your body, like you would think that you're fine already. When the danger is gone, you get those aches. That's just a reminder, like a teacher saying to a student, "You were stupid, now you will remember to behave, won't you?", or something along those lines,"

So, Harry waited, learning some things about his body that he hadn't quite noticed before. Like, groups of muscles he didn't knew existed, or even in just how many situations you use them. Salazar wasn't all that bad, and taught him some ways wizards can deal with injuries. It wasn't exactly healing, just sort of a natural patch which would help, but would heal, or even hold that long.

Finally a day came when Harry got rid of the rest of the pain, and thought it would be good to take a closer look on his animal form. But when Salazar brought the coat from the other day, Harry noticed something peculiar about it.

"Wait, scales and feathers?" Harry asked, confused. The coat itself was made from rough leather, but there was a patch on the back and shoulders, where feathers were sticking out, creating a thick cover, something you can see on a normal bird. "You're sure that this is right? I mean, no offence, but I don't know that kind of an animal."

"I have a theory or two," Salazar said with a smile, "Now, are we doing this?" he asked, holding the coat for Harry to put on.

He hesitated for a moment, but finally put it on, noticing that now it didn't felt heavier than a normal one. Slowly, he came back to the real world, only to have the strangest feeling of his life. He knew he was still in his room, but it was totally different experience. Some things he thought to be obvious seemed, and some that he haven't noticed before were exposed with full force.

Leaving getting used to it for later, he remembered Slytherin's advice that his body will respond to his needs, he used his instinct to simply move towards the mirror he set on his bed, not thinking too much if he had hoofs or paws, how many of them there were, and how exactly he should operate them.

When he came near enough, he saw that he was a jet black snake. What kind of snake, he wasn't sure, and to tell the truth, he wasn't exactly concerned with this at the moment, as he was staring at two wings with pure white feathers, sprouting from his mid-body.

'What the hell?' he thought to himself, 'Since when do snakes have wings?'

'Just as I thought,' Slytherin's voice reached him, ' I told you once that treating your magic as a person simply wasn't done. I think you are experiencing a side effect of that. Your animal form is supposed to represent your personality. Not saying anything about the thoughts in your head, we can say that you have at least two types of personality. You, and her, thus the mix-up,'

'Then why aren't you somehow mixed into this?'

'Well, you are already a snake. I don't think I could add anything more,' Salazar responded with a chuckle.

'Magie?' Harry wanted to ask how she felt about all this, but again his mentor took over.

'You can't talk to her in that state. The 'pulling a skin of an animal over yourself' is quite literal, and right now, magical energies in your body are working to pull your primal instincts to the surface, and making your body take form most suitable to accommodate them.'

'Wait, so I can't do any kind of magic in this form?'

'No, you cannot. This form isn't the form any wizard would choose to fight in in the first place. But it has different merits. Usually, wizards used their animal form to travel, in day to day situations or to get to locations which were beyond of reach of human strength. Given your new found senses, you can look on the world, which can sometimes show you something you were looking for, but couldn't see before. As for a fight, well, I think I don't have to tell you how useful this can be when your enemies think they are still hunting a human being.'

Harry thought about all that, watching his form when Salazar was talking.

'So, what's now? Maybe... Sirius said that it is usual to give your animal form a name, as to distinguish between the personas,' Harry proposed. 'Any ideas?'

'Ah, yes, the mental effects of becoming the animal, you're quite right. Let's see here,' Salazar said, and even in his voice it was clear that he's taking it seriously. 'Images of winged serpents were known, even in my times, to appear on relics in Pharaohs tombs. I think that, given the mission I bestowed upon you, to make wizards take their proper place in the world, King's Counsellor might be a good idea,'

'Sounds old fashioned,' Harry commented. 'Why don't we shorten it to KC?'

'Ah, this generation's youth and their sense of style, what have world came to...' Salazar lamented to nobody in particular. 'But since you're more and more proficient in magic, tell me, have you thought how to deal with wizards yet?'

Harry wanted to face palm himself because of Slytherins 'modest' requirements, but he hadn't had any palms at the moment, and a flap of his wind simply threw him off of his bed...

* * *

AN. I... I... I don't know what to say. This chapter sort of... happened. Only now that I'm finished I noticed how big it is, and just how many things got thrown in there. I'm blaming it on my muse. She was lazy lately, so now she came back with a vengeance.

Just to clear one thing. I know that snake as Harry's animal form was done before, but in animal symbolism, it means intelligence and knowledge (among other things) so it fit's to this Harry well (I think). Being me, I had to play with the concept a little and threw Magie in there. I think that for her a swan fits, being symbol of partnership and transformation (again, among other things).

I don't know if I'll use his animal form all that much in the future chapters, but it was fun to write.


	47. Chapter 47

I didn't write Harry Potter, because if I would, it would look something like... well, like this!

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AN. EnjoyEveryMoment, and I as well, we had busy week. But the chapter is, finally, here.

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It was more than a week later that Harry realised that his transformation triggered another change. Among other things, his appetite spiked, his muscles from the training with Slytherin became more noticeable, his clothes became too small... and in two weeks time, Harry could basically see himself grow. He was standing in the bathroom, gazing at the hair that begun to appear on his chin, when the doorbell rung, and moments later:

"Harry! Someone would like to speak with you!" his aunt's voice came from downstairs.

Intrigued, since no one ever visited him, he went down and noticed Sirius standing in the door. Sirius, on the other hand, didn't have quite that calm of a reaction. Upon seeing his godson, his eyes widened comically.

"Whoa, there. Hold your horses Harry," Sirius exclaimed, "Just how much can you grow in one month? I don't suppose it's even that long, but... I'll be damned," he kept on babbling, his jaw barely hanging on its hinges from when he picked it from the floor.

"Easy up, Sirius," Harry responded, grinning, but he understood what his godfather meant when he reached the bottom of the stairs and they were still equal height.

"So, you do know this man?" Petunia interrupted, still standing by the door.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," Harry replied and proceeded with the introductions, "Sirius, this is my Aunt, Petunia Dursley," at which the older man extended his hand, "Aunt Petunia, this is Sirius Black, my Godfather,"

"Pleasure," Petunia replied shaking the extended hand, although Harry noticed a hint of mistrust at the word 'Godfather'.

"Godfather, you say?" Vernon's voice reached them from the living-room, echoing his wife's doubts.

Moments later they could see him coming to the hallway, but he didn't even make one step out of the room when he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Sirius like he was a ghost.

"Petunia," Vernon said very slowly, not tearing his gaze away as if not to scare away some sort of animal, "call the police,"

Petunia immediately let go of the hand she just shook making Sirius scowl. Harry, thinking fast, tried to find a reason for this kind of behaviour, and instantly, face of his Godfather appearing on television for nearly a month during the previous summer came to his mind.

"Relax, Uncle Vernon, they were looking for him, but it's alright now,"

"Why were they looking for him then?" Vernon retorted, still mistrustful towards the stranger in his house.

"I was framed," Sirius said out of habit.

It didn't do much to ease Vernon's mind, and they stood there, tension thick in the air, until Petunia took matters in her own hands.

"Well, it sounds like a fascinating story," she said, breaking the standstill, "Maybe you could tell it over dinner,"

"Oh, no. I wouldn't want to be a bother," Sirius replied, not wanting to make the already uncomfortable situation worse.

"You shouldn't worry. Dudley is out tonight so it won't be problem at all. Vernon, why don't you invite our guest to the living room while I take care of the meal?" she said, leaving no room for discussion, and heading to the kitchen.

The evening indeed started a little tense, but once Sirius begun his tale, he kept Dursley's in rapt attention, with both asking questions – Vernon about the magical world, and Petunia about his friendship with Potters, and Lily in particular. Harry could see that it was making miracles to Sirius, to tell all about the events that were haunting him for so long to someone who was listening, and genuinely interested. When it came to the Dursley's, it was entirely different matter.

One summer Harry noticed his Aunt dusting old albums which he never saw before. When he inquired about them, Petunia sat him down and went over every page of photographs from her childhood. It was something else to hear about silly things she and Lily did in their youth, maybe mostly because of the fondness in his aunts voice. She did it only once, but from time to time, he could see her going through them on her own, stopping mostly on pictures where she stood close to her sister, and not on the either side of their parents. Harry wondered if she was thinking what could have been if things gone differently, or simply enjoying happier moments from the past. He didn't ask about it, thinking it too insensitive.

His uncle though, probably like most of the men, was looking on technical side of things. Whenever Harry was home, Vernon would come up with a question, nothing specific, simply how a certain thing is done in wizarding community, and upon receiving an answer, he wouldn't comment, simply returning to his own activities. At first, Harry thought that his uncle was keeping a score, tallying whose side of things was better. Now, it seemed that his uncle did it to remind himself that wizarding community was different. Not worse, simply different. A community of people doing things their own way. Truth be told, Harry thought that his uncles main problem with wizards at this point was that even if there were bad people who would want everything their way, bad wizards had the power to simply do as they please.

Just seeing the two of them having a wizard as a guest in their own home, not saying anything about discussing finer merits of mundane life, proved how long way were they from how they used to be.

When the dinner finished, and discussions over a glass of brandy came to a stop, Harry reminded himself to ask a very important question.

"Sirius, why are you here in the first place?"

"Oh, right, I was hoping to take you to the Quidditch World Cup..." Sirius begun, but was interrupted.

"Quidditch? You mean that sport you play at the school?" Vernon asked Harry, getting a nod in response. "Well, I don't fully get that sport, but I don't suppose it would hurt to see it at least once."

"I'm sorry to say, but as it is an international affair, I don't suppose there aren't any tickets left. Not this close to the actual game,"

"Maybe it would be possible for you to come for one of my school games," Harry interjected. "But Sirius," he continued turning to his godfather, "the finals are still some time away."

"Right, that's another thing I would like to talk about," Sirius took over, directing his next words to Vernon. "Now that I'm back, I would like to spend some time with Harry, and I thought that maybe he could spend some part of holidays with me,"

Vernon quickly mulled it all over. "Well, as long as it suits Harry," at which he got another nod, "and we know in advance when you would like to have him at your place, i guess there shouldn't be any problems,"

"So, when are we going?" Harry asked from his spot.

Sirius gaze at the dark street outside before replying, "Since it's late already, and you won't have too much time to pack, I guess I could pick you up tomorrow around the same time as I came today, I hope it won't be too soon of a notice?"

"Well, since it's the first time, I guess it can't be helped," Vernon replied while storing away the rest of the brandy.

Seeing the evening coming to an end, Sirius said his goodbyes, and left Harry to run and pack for the next eventful day... Well, right after he finished helping his aunt with cleaning the dishes.

* * *

The next day, as promised, Sirius came back, noticing Harry already waiting outside with his things.

"'That happy to see me?" Sirius said as a greeting, "All packed up and ready?"

"Of course. I even have a rolled up paper; you know, just in case," Harry replied, and they both added a point for him on the scoreboard of their on-going Punchline contest that begun at their very first meeting.

"Come on," Sirius said, and continued to the Dursley's backyard. After raising his eyebrows, and noticing that his godfather wasn't paying attention, Harry followed. Coming to a stop beside the older wizard, his trunk in hand, he looked around, and just couldn't help but ask:

"Great; and now what?"

Sirius didn't reply, simply threw his arm on his godson's shoulders, and before Harry could ask what that was all about, he experienced the strangest sensation he had ever felt. Immediately, everything went black; he was pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his ear-drums were being pushed deeper into his skull.

Just as soon as it begun, the feeling subsided, and Harry was left stumbling to the ground. He was just about to shout at Sirius, when he became aware of the park in which they were hidden from view, the houses on the other side of the gate, and a strange feeling that something was amiss; missing would be a better term, but just as he was trying to think if it wasn't just after effect of what he thought was apparition moments ago:

"Should-be-demolished may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London," Sirius whispered right to his ear, and Harry was too fascinated with a building appearing out of thin air to give any thought to his strange feelings. Only when the building was standing firmly in its place and Sirius started walking towards it, did Harry process what just happened, starting with:

"Should-be, what?" Harry chuckled while following Sirius.

"Don't ask, I had a bad day that day," his godfather grumbled in response, while opening the door. "Oh, and you shouldn't touch anything funny. My family wasn't the nicest type," Sirius added offhandedly, making Harry stop at the doorsteps.

He was about to follow, but he didn't even make one step through the threshold when a bulldog with a strange hat on his head run between his legs, skidded around the corner, and followed running to what seemed to be a drawing room. Harry begun to think that it might be one of Sirius' friends that he had met whilst running around the park, until a certain voice reached him.

'Come on! Don't make me chase you around!' Magie kept shouting, even as she sprinted past Harry, following the dog to the living room.

Intrigued, he went after the two, and making only one step into the room barely held his laughter at the scene before him. At one side the fat bulldog barely able to lift itself from the ground tried to jump on the cabinet. On the other, there was Magie, furiously tugging at the leash to keep the ferocious beast at bay.

'You're going to just stand there, or are you going to help me?' she snapped at his inaction.

Harry shook his head while coming to her rescue, but stopped again, because upon seeing his approach, the dog stopped its attack on the cabinet, run up to him, and after making couple of circles to catch his attention returned to the previous spot, barked once, and seeing its job done, sat on the floor being content to simply keep its tongue anywhere but in its mouth.

'What's his story?' Harry asked while chuckling.

'Beats me,' Magie responded from the couch, still a little out of breath, 'I just had this idea that we might need something to find certain objects, when this thing appeared out of nowhere, trashed my room and dragged me all the way up here. This...this...' Magie tried to express her annoyance, in the end managing only a disgruntled noise.

'This is Gladstone,' Harry said while scratching the dog.

'What' Magie asked, not overly pleased with the attention the dog was getting.

'You know, Gladstone,' Harry repeated while pointing to the hat sitting atop the dog's head, which could be only from a Sherlock Holmes story, 'I think that's his name,' he added.

'Oh,' Maggie muttered, her irritated mood disappearing in an instance, 'So now we have a dog detective, now we only need to find the thing he was...' her musings stopped when she took a closer look at the cabinet. At her sudden silence, Harry stopped petting the dog and following her gaze, noticed a golden locket sitting proudly in the middle of display.

'Don't tell me...' Harry begun after making sure she stared at the item in the exact same way she did last time.

'Yes,' she answered without him having to finish the question, 'It's just like the diary.'

Harry stood up, and coming even closer to the cabinet, noticed another peculiar thing.

'I know this snake,' he voiced while gazing at the ornamental S at the front of the locket, 'Didn't this belong to...'

'Yes, it did,' a new voice interrupted, and Harry noticed that Slytherin made his appearance, 'It's a memento from my wife,' he continued in a strangely monotone voice, 'I think I remember this because I've spent so much time working on it, that it would be impossible to remove every memory including it and still have something left. I was so focused on it as Rowena was on her Room. I believe this could be my greatest creation. And before you even ask, no. It wouldn't give you any amazing powers like the Room does. While the spell work might be close to the complexity of Rowena's work, the only one who could appreciate it would be a person whose world crumbled and died in one single instance. It didn't give you an unlimited power, but just enough to get up from your bed every morning. It didn't boost your intelligence, but just showed that there is still something more than despair. It did a lot of things, but mostly, in its own, unique way, gave me hope...'

Salazar kept on talking, even as Harry removed the locket from the cabinet and held it in front of him. Slytherin didn't attempt to reach for it, not being able to touch it, and Harry didn't interrupt his speech, thinking it too insensitive to ask what had happened to his wife.

'And now this,' he continued after a short stop, still using that monotone voice, 'The things that were done to this item... Harry,' he said, making his student look him straight in the eye, 'I have another request, this time not as a mentor but as a friend. If you can, find the people who altered this locket,' he said, getting a nod from Harry. 'And kill them,'

Harry didn't look away from his mentor, closely observing everything about him. Harry saw him in many ways, angry, bitter, sarcastic... But he didn't remember one occasion when he could say that he saw Slytherin really furious. And now, if anybody asked him to describe the term "cold fury", he would be hard pressed to think of another example as well suited as this one.

"You be putting that away now," said an entirely new voice, and just by switching his attention, Harry found himself alone with a really old House-elf, his friends disappearing in a flash.

"I'm sorry, am I interrupting your cleaning?" Harry replied, too aware of the thick dust covering majority of the room.

"Shouldn't touch things that aren't his," the elf insisted, "Put it back," he added more forcefully.

"What's going on here? Kreacher. You again? I told you I didn't want to see you," Sirius voice came from the hallway, and the man himself stepped into the room moments later, "Harry, I told you not to pick up funny things."

"Sorry, but I've been reading up on curse-breaking and I was interested if I could have some of the things, you know, to practice. I mean, you have to have experience, right?" Harry quickly explained, not ready to explain the whole truth behind the item he was holding.

Sirius was about to make his reply, when Remus stuck his head into the room.

"Where did you say the anti-pest products were?" he asked, and upon seeing Harry, "Oh, hey. I'm just getting started on making your bedroom liveable."

"Try the first floor broom-closet," Sirius responded, "Or the back room in the bathroom at the top floor," he called down the hallway.

"Hey, what's Remus doing here?" Harry asked out of curiosity.

"You know how he's like if he thinks you're trying to be charitable. I got tired and proposed him a job, you know, to get this dump pest-free. Since he is an expert on dark creatures it isn't that hard, and he can live here and keep me company while doing it. It's a win-win situation. And the fact that he's being paid tons more than while teaching is an absolute coincidence." Sirius finished, grinning.

"Wait, so you're saying that he quit teaching at Hogwarts? Does it mean we'll have a new teacher next year?"

"Yeah, I guess. But you know, "in that exact moment there was a sound of buckets falling down the stairs, and moments later a string of curses like Harry had never heard before reverberated throughout the house. "Oh, come on Moony! I told you to be careful," Sirius shouted over the ruckus, quickly exiting the room. He stuck his head back a second later, "I like it that you want to learn things, and sure, practice is important, but let's do it in a controlled way, so for now, just don't pick strange things up," he said, before disappearing again.

Harry looked into the hallway seeing Sirius fighting with canvas over the portrait at the end of the hall, then turned to the occupant of the room that probably thought that everyone else had forgotten about him.

"Are you guarding this?" Harry asked, again lifting the locket into full view.

"Why do you ask?" Kreacher said while stepping out of the shadows where he was hiding per wishes of his master.

"I have my own goals involving this item, and if we're heading the same way, I don't see any reason for us to fight. If it's the opposite, at least it will be in the open. Not that I would like to fight a determined House-elf."

Kreacher stopped short at that, "What goals?"

"I want to make this locket... harmless," Harry allowed, not knowing himself what exactly he would need to do.

Kreacher seemed to think hard on that, but in the end, "Master Regulus commanded Kreacher to destroy the locket. Kreacher was not able. Kreacher is keeping it safe till a way is found. What can a young wizard do?"

"I can promise you," Harry begun, looking straight at him, "that I will do everything to find a way to make this item harmless. If I'm not be able to change how it is, I will find a way to destroy it for good,"

Even at the start, Kreacher returned to his angry self, "Wizard's promises don't mean anything," he snarled, trying to grasp the locket from Harry's hands.

Harry moved the locket out of the elf's reach, and stopped him with his hand, "Fine, then I'll let someone else vouch for my word," at which Magie squeezed the elf's hands.

Kreacher stopped short, his eyes opened wide and strangely unseeing.

"Do we have an agreement?" Harry asked the baffled creature.

"I believe we do," the old elf whispered, and upon those words, Magie again faded into nothingness. Regaining his senses, Kreacher took another long look at Harry, then gave a low bow, this one more genuine than the one he gave Sirius just moments ago, after which he disappeared with a crack.

* * *

The day Harry and Sirius went to the Diagon Alley to buy all the school supplies for the next year at Hogwarts went relatively normal. It would be normal altogether if not for the moment that Harry announced that they had to go back to Gringotts for an important meeting. This in itself was strange it its own right, Harry planning things without anyone else's knowledge. But as Sirius was about to see, you shouldn't expect too much normality whenever Harry Potter was concerned. It became apparent right at the front desk.

Harry stepped right to the teller, saying "Hello. My name is Harry Potter and I have a meeting scheduled at 2pm," which was completely normal, as far Sirius was concerned.

"Identification please," Goblin replied, extending his hand to take any appropriate item in this kind of situation. So far, so good.

Then Harry shook the goblins hand... Sirius blinked, because he seriously was looking at Harry casually exchanging handshakes with a Goblin. Of course, what he couldn't see was Magie appearing right next to his godson and putting her own hand on top of the already joined ones.

The goblin stared at Harry for a while, and then simply said, "Indeed you are. You are just in time; please proceed through the door on the right,"

"Thank you," Harry responded, making his way to the hundreds of doors at the other side of the bank. Sirius only moments later caught on that they were in fact done, and was made to run after his godson.

Coming to a set of doors, not quite long enough for Sirius to get out of the previous shock, he got another one when Harry exchanged bows with a goblin that approached them, and with the casual word of "Your assistance won't be needed Senior Teller Griphook, I know the way quite well," bowed again, and went along his way. The Goblin didn't even comment, simply returned to his post. This time, Sirius didn't even try to reason with himself that humans walking on their own through Goblin mines was something unheard of.

But looking at Harry one could only say that he indeed knew how to move through Goblin tunnels, since he made his way as effortlessly as any born Goblin would. They ended in front of very old doors with intricate carvings all over, but even that didn't keep Sirius' attention for long as he could clearly hear Harry speaking with the guards at the door in what seemed to be gobbledygook, and started wondering where he could have learned that. And again it was short lived, because moments later he saw who they were meeting with.

"Ah, Mr. Potter, how is your businesses going?" the old goblin behind the desk called upon their entry.

"Fruitful, Master Ragnok. I believe it's the only suitable word," Harry replied after he finished a very low bow, one which Sirius hastily repeated.

"That is good to hear. And who is accompanying you today?" Ragnok inquired, casting his old eyes upon Sirius.

"Master Ragnok, this is my Godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius, this-"

"Of course, I know who you are, Master Ragnok. The pleasure is all mine," Sirius interrupted, partly not believing he was talking to this person, and in part trying to copy Harry's polite manners.

"And I've heard about you as well, Lord Black. I hope you are satisfied with our services."

"Looking at my current bank account, I would have to be stupid to say I'm not," Sirius said with a polite smile.

"Good business, is always good news to the goblins. But talking about business," Ragnok continued, turning again to Harry, "What can we do for you today, Mr. Potter?"

"Not wasting any time, I've come into possession of certain objects, which, even if worth something, require specific handling," Harry begun, getting all business-like, "I'm not requiring services of your curse-breakers, merely keeping them under guard will sufice, so I can study them on my own in safe environment. My Godfather worries that I'm not yet knowledgeable enough," Harry finished, and the last sentence got a good chuckle out of the goblins gathered in the room. Sirius felt that he was missing a joke, but for the life of it, he had no idea what it was about.

"May we see the items?" Ragnok got back on track.

At that, Harry laid on the desk the locket, and additionally, a diary Sirius had never seen before. Ragnok exchanged words in gobbledygook with his assistants, and turning back to Harry, "Are you certain you don't wish to consult with our curse-breakers?"

"If you deem it too dangerous, I will agree to supervision. But I'd rather solve the mystery on my own."

"Understandable," Ragnok responded, and was about to say something more to his assistant, when he gave the locket a closer look, "May I inquire where have you found this particular item?"

"It was in my home," Sirius interjected, "My family wasn't the nicest type, and Harry just had to pick through suspicious things from the moment he stepped in," he explained, getting another chuckle out of Ragnok.

"Don't take offence in me laughing, you are quite right that there are some dark enchantments placed upon it," the old goblin explained his behaviour, "I was merely wondering at your previous comment about your godsons state of knowledge."

"I don't quite understand," Sirius said, clearly confused, "What about it?"

"This, Lord Black," Ragnok begun to answer while pointing at the locket, "If my old eyes aren't deceiving me, is the lost relic of the Founders of Hogwarts. Namely, Locket of Salazar Slytherin,"

That was the last thing that Sirius expected, and his jaw dropped to the floor, and not only rolling around, but making a dancing performance as a leader of a parade with its own marching band.

In the meantime Harry tried to not look smug... Well, at least not too much.

Ragnok finished consulting with his assistants and paperwork was drawn concluding their business. But the talk over a cup of tea between Harry and Ragnok that commenced, looking more like conversation of long lost friends than any other between goblin and a human being known in history, did little to help Sirius' state of mind.

* * *

AN. The effect of the locket that Slytherin is describing isn't from the spell-work he added to the item. Spells did their own thing, but the description is mainly about him still having a purpose in life. If I'll have enough free time, I'll try to write an omake about this part.


	48. Chapter 48

If you would mark my name as the author of Harry Potter in a Millionaire show, i guess you wouldn't want to win that much.

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AN. EnjoyEveryMoment must be either experiencing the same problems with the site that I'm having, or starting to get the hang of not writing/coming to the site any more. I haven't heard from her since she betaed the chapter some two weeks ago...

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"Open your eyes,"

Harry woke up at the soft call, noticing Magie standing over him, then taking in that he wasn't in his room at Grimmauld Place, but rather in a guest bedroom of his friends house. Magie, upon seeing him a wake, motioned for him to follow and left the room without saying another word. He left the house, noticing that the inky darkness of night was changing to a royal shade of blue, indicating that it was some time before sunrise. Well, at least according to his biological clock. Magie caught his attention again, and led him to the mysterious hut somewhere in the back of his mind, and only there, did she explain what happened.

"I came here because the baby was crying. I don't know what happened this time to startle it, but I noticed this," she said while pointing to the portrait hanging on the wall.

Harry didn't know what she was referring to, but after a moment he caught on, noticing the change. It was hard to notice at first, given the paintings dark background, but when he spotted that, Harry realised that the dark smoke that the canvas were filled with to the brink was no longer all over, but rather moved to the centre, forming a more solid mass, or even...

"A silhouette," Harry muttered while scanning the blurry shape.

"There's more," she called from over the crib, and when he joined her, she pointed to the snake lying next to the child.

When at first it was simply a toy to help the child sleep, now it changed to being quite real, resting coiled around the baby, and additionally, that same strange string connected it to the other items.

"What do you think it means?" Magie asked, interrupting his inspection.

"I don't really know," Harry answered honestly, "But we should be prepared for anything, because I believe we'll know soon enough,"

* * *

Seeing no point in trying to fall asleep again, Harry exited Magie's domain returning to the real world. Getting up from his own bed, he noticed that the sun was in fact just raising, and while walking down the stairs, became aware that the house was strangely quiet. After checking couple of rooms for either Remus or Sirius, he reminded himself of the date, as it was the day of the Quidditch World Cup, and they were supposed to tie together last details regarding their trip to the game.

Seeing nothing better to do, Harry directed his steps to the kitchen in hopes of getting some breakfast, but he barely got to the hallway before his restless brain got distracted again. He stopped right in front of the curtains that Sirius was fighting with couple of days ago, and was very specific in detailing that under no circumstances should be removed. Harry, being himself, just had to know more. But at the first touch when he was trying to take a peak, the curtains flew apart on their own, and the same voice as the last time begun screaming at the top of it's lungs.

"Filth! Scum! Traitors! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers—" the mad woman depicted on the portrait kept shouting. Harry meanwhile simply stood there, observing like was in his nature, and enjoying the irony of the situation.

Magic paintings were wizards ultimate solution to the problem of "I wonder how that person was like," that some people experience while admiring regular portraits. It was safe to assume that enchantments placed upon magical canvas were nothing more than what Slytherin used to save his memories in a rock hidden in the Chamber of Secrets, but with one major difference. Paintings didn't maintain too much from their memories. It was done so for two reasons.

One being that the more information one would like to put into the construct, the more energy it would need to keep it going, and as key-stones weren't the best addition to the frame, and in no way helped movability of the piece of art, it simply wasn't done. Not saying that there were better ways to store ones knowledge. It wasn't that the construct didn't had any memories at all, but if Slytherin's memories were limited to the ones that were useful, the paintings maintained only a fringe of that.

The second one was that people didn't expect a well practised behaviour, like one could maintain given his life's experiences, but the true, unmasked personality of the person. A strategic mistake as it became apparent in time, when so many great people turned out to not be so perfect after all, displaying various, and sometimes quite disturbing, personal flaws. Given that, the paintings soon disappeared from public view, but weren't gone completely. Given the way they were built, someone discovered that they were perfect advisors. With blank memories, when given enough information and time, the painting would come up with a plan closely resembling one the real person would develop if they were still alive, after which, they would forget it, leaving a blank memory once again. Given that, rather than being considered an unsuccessful experiment, magical paintings were still produced, but immediately hidden from public to serve as means for the betterment of the late person's family situation.

Knowing that, Harry stood there, looking at the mad woman whose spite flew from her mouth with every obscenity she screamed, and wondering what world would look like if everyone would indeed think that her behaviour was normal, as she so claimed.

On the other hand, the woman screaming from the painting noticed something strange. There was no reaction at her shouting. No one was covering in fright, or shouting back in anger, trying at the same time to shut the covers around her painting. So she stopped, baffled, and concentrated on the young man standing right in front of her.

"Now that it's a little quieter, let me introduce myself. Harry Potter, last living member from long line of Potters," he said while giving a short, formal bow.

"Walburga Vivienne Black, Lady of the House of Black," the painting responded, the part of the late woman's mind that thought everyone to be beneath her gone, replaced by the person she was while dealing with official matters. She didn't curtsy though, since she wasn't in a presence of a Lord.

"If I may inquire, who did I betray?" Harry asked, picking one particular item from long list of paintings accusations.

"Why, your own blood, your wizardry heritage," Walburga said, scanning him from head to toes.

"But one does not need to be of pure-blood to follow beliefs of ones ancestors. And even a pure-blood can be brought up without knowledge of the proper ways. What kind of behaviour should they follow then?" Harry carefully tested the waters.

"That's exactly what I am speaking off. The very beliefs you are inquiring about. It was a thousands years ago that Great Salazar Slytherin demanded that wizards have nothing to do with... _muggles_," she spat the last word as if only speaking it have dirtied her person, the fact that the portrait still remembered the alleged beliefs of Salazar Slytherin showing how much the woman was devoted to the "cause". Meanwhile, Harry saw a way to end the dispute faster than he anticipated.

"And what if in fact I was following the ways of Great Slytherin?"

"_Impossible_," the painting sneered with contempt, "You're dressed like one of _them_. What could you possibly know about..." Walburga was again building up steam, her portrait-self gaining that crazy quality from before, until:

"**I may know a thing or two about the man,**" delivered by Harry stopped her in her tracks.

Harry doubted if the painting understood the snake language, but seeing her expression, he believed that she got the message all the same.

"Hey, Harry, guess what..." Sirius yelled from the door after just setting one foot inside, but stopped short at the scene at the other end of the hallway.

"It was a pleasure to speak with you. I wouldn't mind doing it again at another time," Harry said to the painting, giving another formal bow, after which he turned to walk to his godfather, missing that Walburga did in fact curtsy this time, only indication that he gained some footing. After that, the painting settled to sleep, still keeping one ear open, in case the current Lord would require help. A normal behaviour whenever the painting had to think something through, or plot a plan...

"What was so important that you forgot the main rule? You know, the one stating that we don't scream in the hallway?" Harry asked cheekily.

"How," Sirius tried to ask, fighting his shock to formulate words, "How did you..."

"Did what?" Harry asked, turning around and noticing that the curtains usually covering the portrait were still open. He turned back again, confusion all over his face.

Sirius blinked couple of times, then switched his focus to his godson, finally noticing that he wouldn't get any answers any time soon.

"Ah, forget it," he said with a sigh, "We're ready to go,"

"But why? The game isn't until the evening," Harry asked, this time confused for real.

"Don't you know anything?" Sirius replied, trying to make Harry to be the stupid one, totally omitting the situation from moments ago, "Going to the game isn't only about watching the game. It's also about the buzz before such a great event, meeting with people, talking, getting to know young, lovely ladies..." Sirius said with a faraway look in his eyes. Then he remember where he was and who was he speaking to, "Would you stop complaining already?" he snapped, "Just pack your things. We're leaving soon,"

* * *

Arriving at the Quidditch World Cup's camp-site, Harry again was reminded just how unimaginative wizards, people capable of anything, can be. If he was to memory charm someone, he would do it once, and for good. It was so much easier to make a person thing that they won at a lottery and make them go on a trip, thus answering why they weren't at their home, and the additional money they found when they got back, instead of erasing their memory every hour or so. Yet, wizards running the Cup were stubbornly doing the later, when doing the former, and placing a wizard who knew how to run the camp-site would be so much more beneficial. And that was just the front gates, not saying anything...

Harry didn't had that much time to think things through, as Sirius was furiously trying to get them as fast as he possibly could to their tent. When they got there, Harry understood why.

"Right, so here we are. You make yourself comfortable, while I... I... I'll... I'll see you later," his godfather called, already rushing to the spot filled with waves of long blond hair and giggling.

Harry shook his head with a sigh at his godfathers antics. He stood there, thinking of something to do, and wondering what it would be like if his friends were here. Sadly, Nevile's grandmother had him go through another summer of endless tutoring, saying that even if he improved his grades, he still wasn't at his full potential. It was the same thing with Rose, since her father didn't want her to slip in her academic studies, or like he worded it "Just because you're learning magic, it doesn't mean you can throw your brain away". Harry, seeing all the crazy wizards around him, totally understood his point. Then there was Luna, once again travelling the globe in search of intriguing news and fantastic species. Thinking of that, Harry made a mental note to start putting things straight. That left Hermione, who went with her parents on another family vacation to France. Harry remembered her saying how wonderful the beaches there were, and wondered if she'll have a tan when she came back. Maybe she was tanning right at the moment. Stretched out on sand, with sun burning at her skin, sweat appearing on her body, and a drop or two rolling down her throat and onto her barely covered...

Harry stopped short, and shook his head to clear that, even though pleasant, totally unexpected vision. He cursed his teenage hormones when he had to do it again to get his mind fully under control again. But when he was once again in control of his senses, he noticed that he had wandered near a group of all too familiar redheads.

"Hello," he said as he came closer, startling the Twins who were keeping their business to the side in that distinctive way that meant they were plotting something.

"Holly crap, Harry," said Fred, holding his hand over his heart.

"Ease up on the silencing charm," finished his equally surprised twin.

Then they stopped short, both tilting their heads to the side.

"That, and engorgement spells," they added together.

"Right, but what's the plan?" Harry cut to the chase.

"We don't really know," George said with a scowl, "Percy's been a real ass since he got the job a the Ministry."

Harry scanned the camp-site, and noticed the person in question near the tent, talking with two people who were too familiar looking to be anybody else than Bill and Charlie. Seeing Percy's puffed out chest, and the flamboyant body language, Harry simply went to say hello, and Twins were made to follow.

"Hi guys," he said as a greeting when he joined the group, "Harry Potter," he added, extending his hand to the two he hadn't been introduced to, and getting confirmation that they were in fact the two brothers he hadn't previously met.

"Potter," Percy acknowledged his presence, sligthly scrunching his nose at the interruption, picking his story up before the introductions were over, "As I was saying, Mr. Crouch is the best boss you can imagine. His judgement is always spot on,"

"Okay, so now that we know that," Charlie tried to change the topic, and seeing his expression, it wasn't the first time he tried that. It did little to impress Percy.

"Probably the only thing that surpasses his feel of the situation is his vast knowledge of regulations," he marshalled on.

"Super," Bill added, minding his time cleaning his boots, and saying a word or two from time to time, signalling that he wasn't asleep yet.

"I bet, with his skills, Mr. Crouch could have any position in the Ministry. Even become Minister for Magic," Percy continued with his tirade.

"Just so you know, I hate people like you,"

That stopped everyone short, and all eyes were turned to Harry.

"Excuse me?" Percy took offence, being the person to whom the words were spoken to.

"You're an opportunist. So, I'll give you an excellent opportunity," Harry continued, not minding other stares, "I have some gold in Gringotts, and seeing as you have everything figured out, I guess you would need some to further your political carrier. I'll be willing to give you... half," Harry said after a quick calculation, "for your family," he finished casually.

Charlie and Bill didn't intervened then and there, being calmed down by Twins who simply told them to let Harry do his thing, quickly recalling some of his more successful ideas. Percy on the other hand was quickly loosing his patience.

"What did you just say?"

"You know, it's pretty good deal," Harry went on to explain finer merits of his idea, "You'll have the time and money to work on building your political footing, since you will no longer be allowed to go back home, and in the meantime, I'll be using your room, spending some time with your family... You know, the usual stuff,"

"_How dare you!_" Percy spat jumping to his feet, "I was right about you all along. Now if you'll excuse me, I don't want to spend any minute more with the likes of you," he delivered coldly, storming off moments later.

"Now, before I break your legs," brought Harry's attention back to the group, and he came face to face with the first-born Weasley, "Since Twins make you into this genius or something, could you explain what was that all about?"

"Well, the first part was quite serious. I hate opportunists. They don't really care about anything but their own business. They don't even care that much for beliefs or ideas they are quoting, since they are only means to the goal, easily changed if needed. They don't even want to do anything of their own, just tagging along someone's else's fame. They ride that wave, and if that someone is successfully, they're right at their side, taking in the glory for simply being carried over the competition. If that person fails, an opportunist will simply say how he knew it all along, and point himself as a person most suited to take over whatever position the looser had left. Then, they'll start it again," Harry said, but seeing impatience on Bill's face, he got more specific, "Percy is just like that. When he was in Hogwarts, he quoted school regulations that he had learned by hear, and saying how teachers should be respected. Now he have the glorious Mr. Crouch, and suddenly, everything about that part of the Ministry is worth mentioning. I bet when he was really small he wanted to be just like Mr. Weasley, but do you remember the last time he quoted your father?"

Bill let him go off the hook for a while, because it was a fact that Percy wanted to be just like his father, and neither Bill nor Charlie could tell specifically when he stopped repeating every maxim their father came up with.

"Now, the second part was more of a show," Harry continued his explanation, "The most common problem with overworking yourself is that you have to choose between family and work, and taking an opportunist, family looses in most of the cases. Seeing Percy's zeal and your annoyance at his behaviour, I don't suppose it would be long before a conflict broke out. But I don't think that Percy is that far gone yet, seeing as he takes offence when someone points out how he behaves, it stands to reason that he, himself don't fully notice his behaviour. Given that, he will think hard about how tactless my "offer" was, since, as you all heard, I'm from the worst kind, and, hopefully, in the future, whenever he gets to decide between a promotion or his family, he will connect it to this moment and to my offer, maybe even seeing the person who proposed it in worse light than before. I wonder if it'll be enough to stop him from casually casting his family aside," Harry muttered while scratching his chin.

Bill and Charlie exchanged glances, then looked to the Twins who just shrugged, not able to explain any better that Harry just was this way. After a short moment of silence, Twins begun goofing around again, switching the topic entirely, and no one mentioned the exchange any more.

Some time after that Ron and Ginny came back from the tap with fresh water, both of them making remarks about Harry's growth spurt. Beside that, and people coming and going to simply exchange a few word about the coming game, they spent their time talking about a multitude of topics. It was only when Mr. Weasley came back from his visit to his colleagues, and Mrs. Weasley came out of the tent calling everyone for diner, did they notice how late it was.

"Well then, Harry," Mr. Weasley asked as the meal was reaching it's end, "The match isn't too long from now. Where are your seats?"

"I don't really know," Harry responded with a frown, "Sirius has the tickets, so..."

"Then you're sitting with us," Mr. Weasley reassured him, "It seems that Ministry's policy is to not step on Black's feet any more. Seeing what he went through... poor lad," he finished sadly.

Soon thereafter, everyone got going, so Harry and the Weasley's joined the constantly growing crowd, even managing to find Sirius along the way, though getting him away from Salem's witches was another thing entirely. Upon entering the Top Box everyone got a good view of the stadium, sight so grand that nothing could catch their attention, even snide remarks from the Malfoy's, which in fact ended when they became aware of Harry's presence.

People barely had time to take their seats when Bulgarian mascots begun their performance. Immediately, men from all sectors of the stadium begun reaching as far as they could from the bariers, doing poses, shouting, going to all kind of trouble to get the attention of beautiful women dancing on the field. Harry was tempted to do the same, but again his restless brain fought through the haze, needing to know what exactly was happening before he went on to do something stupid. In that moment, one passage from a magic-trick's book came to his mind.

_Illusionists are the centre of the show, and thus, require help of an assistant to prepare for following tricks. But one can ask, if so, why most likely women of rare beauty are chosen to serve the role of an assistant? It is nothing less than another technique to distract the attention of the crowd, many which you should know from previous chapters. It is known that people, both males and females, are more likely to follow a beautiful face, than concentrate on a man arranging props he was handed, thus missing, for instance, a slight of hand, and in fact, the simple truth behind the trick._

By now, the music stopped, women on the field finishing their dance, and Harry noticed that he was one of the few men that stayed in their seats throughout the spectacle, the sight of Sirius' and Draco's last attempts to catch dancers attention being particularly funny. But when he once again glanced in the direction of retreating shapes, Harry wondered, what kind of secret was hidden behind their trick.

Moment's later a shower of golden coins, which Harry, from his visits to Gringotts, knew to be fake, fell on the spectators, and this time, he thought what other masquerade will the evening present him with.

* * *

If you had, even once in your life, said anything along the lines "Humans are like sheep", you weren't that far from truth. Seeing just how complicated human brain is, it would be impossible for an average person to think or process everything around them, and still remain coherent. Natures plan was to allow a human being to pick and process at the top of their capability couple of subjects, but in the meantime, others have to be reduced to simple impulse-reaction process.

That is the reason for the statement that even if you can sit one person, give them information regarding, and talk somewhat intelligently on multitude of topics, you can't possibly expect a coherent answer from an angry or scared crowd. It's enough for couple of people to shout danger, and a state of panic will spread through the masses like a wildfire, everyone's subconscious picking up the signal, and setting their body in a state of alarm without their concious mind even knowing.

Wizards were just the same, and even children, never before seeing one, reacted instinctively to the white masks and black garbs of Death Eaters, running away without any thought other than an unspoken horror created from all the stories they picked from their parents.

Surprisingly, it was as easy to stop the unwanted chain of events as it was to start it. One just need to change the impulse to change the reaction. Probably the best kind of change is one that would be most unexpected, thus not only stopping the panic, but also making every single person in the crow think about the situation, hopefully picking better reaction to the problem.

In this case, a single rock thrown from the running crowd was enough to change the course of events. The rock struck one of the masked figures in the head, and even if it didn't do anything magical, or even broke the mask to show a simple man underneath, a string of curses that reverberated throughout the air was enough make people think: "Why would the figure considered to be an omen of death be experiencing pain, anger or even annoyance?"

The group of Death Eaters stopped, now facing a wall of faces as more and more people begun turning to face them. They didn't even have time to react, before a second rock flew through the air, and struck the previously horrifying silhouette so hard, that the wizard hiding behind the mask lost control over the spell he had cast, and a muggle fell out of the air, starting a domino effect so sudden, that when the Death Eaters stopped falling one over the other, there was nothing more than a pile of arms and legs.

The crowd turned to where the rock had flew from, and didn't notice a valiant hero with all his emblems, nor a team, or even a single trained wizard rushing to their defence. What they did see, was a small girl, no more than eight years old, with hands on her hips and such a fierce look on her face that probably only her mother holding her back stopped her from running up to the dark figures and kicking all of their shins for startling her family. After that, people in the crowd exchanged glances, and concentrated on the fallen group in a totally different way.

When the Death Eaters got back to their feet, one could say that the nightmare of their forefathers came to pass, as it seemed that the sky itself was falling on their heads. Previously scared crowd now used the energy to fuel it's anger, and wizards abandoned their wands to throw whatever was within their reach, be it rocks, abandoned pans and kettles, or even more dangerous parts of the tents. It was fortunate that some maintained enough mind to summon the muggle family out of the danger zone.

Since wizards abandoned hand to hand combat, it wasn't overly known that a simple Protego shield used not only it's own energy, but also the one from the enemy's spell to reflect it. A fact some of the Death Eaters had painfully learned when the objects flying to them had simply passed through their hastily made protection. Seeing that, the rest of the group had banished just enough of the debris to be able to run for their lives, too startled with the turn of events to think of anything else to do.

It was probably the first time that a fallen Death Eater prayed for the Ministry personnel, which in fact arrived moments later. If they haven't, it was doubtful if the mob would have left anything but rags from the Death Eater's uniform.

Seeing that, Harry, the person to throw the first stone, thought that there might be some hope for the magical community, and begun to plan for the future.

* * *

AN. I made a mistake while describing the "Horcrux-hut", like someone called it, at the beginning of the second year. At that time Nagini wasn't a horcrux yet, so the snake shouldn't be represented. Until I get to cleaning this story just pretend that I've written that there was a plush-toy in the crib.

Sorry for the delay. At first I simply couldn't write, then this Type 2 error message kept sprouting like hell, so I stopped checking the site thinking that I'll simply post it later than sooner. Only now did I notice how long it have been, and found the life-saving workaround. Thank you so much for the solution, **misswhiteblack**. And once again, sorry for the delay.


	49. Chapter 49

I'm not getting any money from this. No, that fact doesn't have anything to do with my belief that work of art shouldn't be owned, but shared. It's because I'm not J. K. Rowling...

* * *

Ministry's Inaction Continues

It's been a week since the riot on the night following the Quidditch World Cup, during which Lucius Macon Malfoy, Gregory Gallagher Goyle and Brian Bedros Crabbe, Heads of three prominent pure-blood houses, were caught wearing Death Eater garbs while setting terror in their own community.

We have waited for a full week, but the Ministry is yet to react to the events of that faithful night. Aside of putting them in custody, there was nothing done in their case, not even setting a date for a trail which would judge their actions. Likewise, nothing is being done with the unrest that is growing daily.

Let me interpret those facts and voice the question we all are asking. With the current state our community is in, with our own government protecting the culprits from a rightful punishment, with wishes of the common-men being disregarded... One can only ask, who is our Ministry serving?

* * *

That was what Daily Prophet's first page looked like on the first of September, the paper itself filled with more of the same. But that article wasn't a one-of-a-kind deal. Throughout the week from the game the paper called for blood of the clearly guilty men, then started questioning the Ministry's decisions, and now it seemed that someone else is going to take the blame. It was a field day for the Daily Prophet's reporters, with Rita Skeeter at the very front. But no matter what they printed, Harry saw clearly that people were trying to punish individuals for everything wrong that happened in the past.

"How is it that you're always here first?" a voice interrupted Harry's contemplations, and lifting his gaze from the paper he was reading he could see Hermione trying to come through the door with her back turned to him, struggling with her trunk, and like every year, managing to get it stuck in the doorway. Harry chuckled to himself at the way the brightest witch of her generation still managed to do some things wrong – not that he would ever point it to her.

He stood up and went to the door, but since Hermione was still trying to do everything on her own, he had to reach around her to extract the trunk from the door-frame, after which he could place it on it's proper place. Hermione meanwhile froze up.

At first she thought that by mistake she entered a wrong compartment with some 7th year boy. But after turning really slowly, she couldn't believe her eyes. She gave Harry a once over, then quickly did a double take, and after making sure she was seeing right, her mouth became exceptionally dry.

When Harry managed to secure Hermione's trunk and turned to her to greet her properly, she was giving him a look that strangely reminded him of Ginny Weasley... but he had no idea why.

"Everything okay?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Y-Yes," Hermione stammered, looking around in search of any other topic than Harry's new physique, missing the way the boy in question was eyeing her tanned skin. "You were there, right?" she finally asked, pointing to the page from the Daily Prophet which once again told the happenings of the night after the Quidditch World Cup.

"Yeah, but it stopped before it got near me," Harry replied, mentally kicking himself, making note that he have to talk with his friends as soon as possible so that he can stop misleading them.

Hermione just nodded at his response, and since her mind was at the the moment elsewhere, she couldn't think of any valid follow up, and thought fiddling with her nails was best course of action. Of course, while doing that, she missed that Harry as well wasn't entirely paying attention.

They stood there, both of them in their own musings, tense silence growing with every passing second. But they were spared from that when the door to the compartment opened once again.

"I tell you guys," Neville begun from the start, but stopped when he noticed that something was off. His entrance broke the moment, Harry and Hermione returning to their normal selves, making Neville think that he imagined it. Then he noticed Harry's change. "Whoa, what happened to you?" he asked, making Luna, who was right behind him, but unable to enter due to Neville's sudden stop, push through so she could see it as well.

"You know how it is when you fall into a growth potion," Harry said with a shrug, then frowned, "No, wait. That was Hagrid," he voiced while scratching his head, "Hmm... I'll get back to you on that one," he finished while making a big scene of thinking on something really, really hard.

Neville chuckled at his friend's strange humour, but Hermione just rolled her eyes at his antics, making a mental note that even with the change in his appearance, he was still all the same.

"You were saying something earlier," Hermione reminded.

"What? Oh! Right," Neville said, getting back on track, "I just wanted to warn you that Draco is going to be insufferable for quite some time, given the recent events and all,"

"What do you mean?" Harry and Hermione asked at the same time.

Neville blinked, seeing their blank faces. Only Luna's intervention cleared the situation for him.

"Muggle-borns," she said softly from her spot just outside the compartment, reminding everyone that they were all still standing. After the trunks were secured and everyone sat down, Neville begun the explanations.

"It all has to do with Lordship. Since Malfoy Sr., the current Head of House Malfoy, was caught and is awaiting trial, he is no longer allowed the full extent of his rights, and therefore, he cannot act as a Head of his family. The laws state that any noble House needs to have a lord, since the duties of the house, for example, in Wizengamot meetings, have to be maintained. And now-"

"Draco is the Head of House?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Acting Head of House," Neville corrected, getting further with the explanations, "If Malfoy Sr. is sentenced, then Draco, or someone more suitable, will be appointed the new Lord. It still can be Draco, since it isn't so uncommon for under-age Lords to act under guidance of a Stewart, but I'm getting of topic here. If Draco's father will somehow walk free from all of this, everything returns to how it used to be. But for now..." he left it hanging, not wanting to even think about how much Draco will boast about his status now.

"But if you say that noble house has to have a Head," Hermione started, getting into her investigative mood, "then why during all this time Sirius was in prison, there was no Acting Lord of the House Black?"

Neville begun thinking about an explanation, but was interrupted by Harry.

"I don't know if I get it right, but Sirius never had a trial. One minute he was in custody, and then he was in jail. If someone would like to question his Lordship, then from what Neville told us, he would need to do it in that short period of time, because even if Sirius ended up in jail, on paper, there were no documents showing that he was waiting for a trial, and nothing stating that he was to be imprisoned. If someone would like to question his powers, all the documents he could bring would eventually end as stating that Sirius is a free man, thus, fully capable of maintaining his status," Harry finished, making a mental note to spend some time reading up on wizarding laws.

"It is a little more complicated than that, but you captured the main idea of it," Neville allowed, but before anything else could be added to the subject, the door to the compartment slid open, revealing an unexpected guest.

"Hi," Ron said somewhat uncertainly, "Harry, could I have a word with you?"

Harry, after exchanging glances with his friends, shrugged, and stepped out of the compartment and shutting the door after himself.

"So..." Harry said, not knowing how to start, since it didn't look like Ron, who was fidgeting nervously, wasn't anywhere near ready.

"Well, you see..." Ron finally managed, "I just wanted to say sorry, you know... You allowed me into your study group, even as I didn't do anything useful, and I haven't even thanked you or anything, and... just... well..." he spilled out in one breath, ending unsure of what else to say.

Harry blinked, surprised by this turn of events, but still, from what he knew of Ron, he could appreciate that the guy at least thought about what he was trying to apologise for.

"Well, I don't really see where's the problem here, I don't really have any hard feelings toward you," Harry begun, and upon hearing that, Ron let out a long breath, "But," he continued, "If you really feel like you did something wrong, then I wasn't the only one in that group,"

Ron tensed up, but after quickly thinking it through, he understood that Harry was right, and wasn't saying that to just spite him off. He glanced at the compartment doors they were standing in front off, and nodded his head, but couldn't voice his agreement to Harry's statement, because:

"Weasley, Weasley, Weasley," a drawling voice slithered through the hallway, "If you want to flatten yourself in front of someone, at least choose someone who has style, and not this muggle filth," Draco Malfoy stepped closer, as always followed by his two bodyguards.

Ron immediately grew angry and attempted to get to Malfoy, but Harry simply blocked his way with one hand, while answering Draco's taunt.

"Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy," he answered in the same kind of voice the young Slytherin had used, "When will you learn that even Crabbe and Goyle are smarter than you, since they don't go out seeking trouble, where you do, and take a beating every single time. In fact, I'm wondering, aren't you by chance a masochist or what?"

"I wasn't talking to you, you muggle-"

"Filth?" Harry finished, making Draco glare at him, "Hey, don't be angry at me just because I can insult you by talking about you, and not something you have no control of,"

At that, Draco not only didn't take offence, but even looked quite pleased with the situation.

"You heard that?" Malfoy asked his two bodyguards, then turned to Harry, "I challenge you to the wizarding duel," he said swiftly.

"Now, why would you do that?" Harry responded, having a strange feeling of deja vu.

But the scene didn't play itself like before, because Malfoy stated with a sneer, "You just said it yourself. You just insulted Head of a Noble House,"

"Acting Head," Harry said, making Draco glare at him more, "What? I just say what I've heard,"

"Do you concede, or do you yield?" Malfoy demanded.

Harry looked at him, thinking about the situation for a while, in the end he turned to Ron.

"Do you remember the entire conversation, and would you be able to relate it to the arbitrator of the duel?"

"I do, and I will," Ron answered shortly with a formal bow, making Harry think if all pure-bloods were taught how to deal properly with those kinds of situations. But he seemed to be doing good enough on his own, as indicated by Draco's stunned expression.

Malfoy regained his composure, still not looking as sure as he was just moments ago, and after glancing at the people standing by his sides, "Crabbe will vouch for me," he said.

"Till tomorrow then," Harry said, grabbing at the handle of his compartment.

"WHAT?" Draco's shout stopped him, "What do you mean, tomorrow?"

"Well, it's better to settle this matter sooner than later, isn't it? Or are you not so sure of yourself any more?"

Draco looked at Harry in disbelief for a moment, then remembered that there were other people present, and upon seeing Ron looking at him with a raised brow, as if doubting him, he grit his teeth, gave a jerky nod, and stormed off. Ron wasn't far behind him, leaving a hasty "I'll see you later," as a goodbye, before he went down the train to tell about the newest happenings.

Harry just heaved a deep sigh, and returning to his friends, thought that the didn't start too well.

* * *

Arriving at Hogwart's wasn't the end of surprises. It all started as it always did. The older students took their places, younger ones were brought it. After the hat sung it's song the sorting begun. But that feeling of normality was gone when Headmaster begun making announcements. The usual additions to the list of banned items didn't catch anybody's attention, but the information following that, was quite a bombshell.

"As of the end of the last year, Professor Snape is no longer Head of the Slytherin House," there was a great hush at those words, "After long deliberation, we came to conclusion that his skills at inventing potions should be used to greater extent. Do not worry, since he will still be able to teach his subject," that information was received with a groan, "No longer needing to serve Head of House duties should give him enough time to work,"

Harry heard the last part, saw the discontent expression on Snape's face, and translated it into something along the lines, "more time being locked in the dungeons, alone, as far as one can be from other people". He exchanged glances with his friends, and they obviously were thinking the same thing: "Snape finally lost it".

"As for the replacement for the post of Head of the Slytherin House, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," everyone concentrated on the empty seat, "is yet to-"

As if on cue, the doors to the Great Hall burst open. A man begun walking from the doorway to the teacher's table. You didn't need to know who it was, even with the clues like clunking that could be heard with every second step of the figure, or a face one could never forget that could be seen when the lightning appeared on the enchanted celing, because as soon as the figure took of it's hood, whispers begun to spread among the students.

"That's Mad-Eyed Moody!"

"Supposedly he filled half of the Azkaban all on his own!"

"He isn't that great. They kicked him from the Auror's office,"

"They say he's paranoid,"

Those and many more comments could be heard as the man made his way to the head table.

"I think that he has a healthy approach to his job," Everyone near enough to hear turned to Harry and starred at him like he lost his mind.

"Why?" Seamus summed up everyone's questions.

"He's still alive," Harry commented watching the man in question great Dumbledore, leaving others to wonder about all those Aurors and Hit Wizards who weren't that lucky – if one could state that Moody's life meant "being lucky".

"As I was saying," Headmaster begun, raising his hands to silence the hall, "I give to you, Alastor Moody. Our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Head of the Slytherin House,"

Upon hearing that, everyone turned to the Slytherin table, and without much thought one could say that dread of the students from that House was proportional to the number of scars one could see on Moody's face only.

"And as the last thing to mention before we all go to sleep," Dumbledore caught everyone's attention again, "There will be no Inter-House Quidditch Cup this year,"

"WHAT!" a massive shout came from the students, followed with, more personal, shouts of outrage.

"In it's place," Headmaster continued, undaunted, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

There was exactly one second of silence, before the school begun to chatter so loud that Dumbledore was for a while unable to explain the details. Seeing that, Harry thought that his duel with Draco won't be the talk of the school.

* * *

The next day, Harry saw how sadly he was mistaken.

First day of school went by in a flash. First classes not being anything more than revisions, and everyone's minds focused on the show later. So, it was no surprise that most of the school abandoned immediately going to dinner to watch the duel. Some even thought that it was some kind of "final showdown" between arch-enemies, two leaders of houses that for so long opposes one another, but in fact:

"This is personal matter between Malfoy and I, Professor," Harry explained hid Head of House yet another time, while he was waiting for Draco to finally show up.

"Many do not think it that way Mr. Potter, given this show in the middle of Hogwarts grounds," Professor McGonagall replied.

"As for why here, I tried to argue but were not allowed to leave school grounds to deal with my personal business," Harry explained, "And if you want to change what people think, you would do better to talk with them than with me," he added defiantly, his arms crossed, not moving from his spot where he was waiting for his opponent for quite some time now.

She was about to say something more, or at least tried to, but it seemed that she run out of arguments, so, huffing and puffing, she made her way through the crowd towards the castle, probably to exchange words with Headmaster. On her way there, she passed by Draco who at last made his appearance, as always with his goons close behind. Making his way through the crowd, some of them cheering at the fight, most of the school throwing taunts at him, he didn't look at his best. But still, stepping right in front of Harry, he made his best attempt at an intimidating posture.

"So, Potter," he sneered, "who is going to be the judge? Maybe Professor-"

"I call upon Bloody Baron and Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington!" Harry interrupted, speaking firmly, and immediately two ghosts flown from the crowd to stand between the opponents. At once, the entire crowd quieted down. "Since you're the ghost's of Slytherin and Gryffindor house respectively, some may think that it's a fight between houses. But it's not! I-"

"Then why didn't you pick someone else?" shouted someone from the back of the crowd.

Harry sighed at the interruption. "Because ghosts don't have anything to gain or loose while dealing in affairs of the living. The House ghosts are oldest in the castle, thus wisest. And before someone asks why I didn't pick two remaining ghosts. I wouldn't like to interfere with Friar's peaceful nature, and I don't know if a woman like Grey Lady would like to be forced to watch a barbaric duel," he said, and Friar bowed in thanks while the Ravenclaw ghost seemed to smile, if only a little.

"So we have two noble ghosts who are well versed in duelling procedures," Harry continued, this time turning to the aforementioned entities, "and I would like to use that knowledge for this duel to be fair, and in accordance to the formal proceeding's,"

"Wait a minute!" Draco interrupted from his spot, "Don't I have anything to say in this?"

"Sure you do. Simply name your judge and state your reasons. If your nomination is better than mine, I'm willing to agree," Harry said, once again crossing his arms and waiting for a response.

Draco begun to speak, but then glanced at everyone present, his cheeks got a little red. "Get on with it," he sneered eventually.

"Do you agree to judge?" Harry once again turned to the two ghosts waiting nearby.

Sir Nicholas bowed formally, while Bloody Baron simply moved to the spot for secondary judge, at the oter side of the opponents.

"We have gathered here to settle a dispute," Nicholas begun with the formalities, "Listening to the witnesses will not be needed, as the story has traveled the school many times over. From what I've heard, this is not a case of protecting ones honour, but a case where difference of opinions will be settled,"

"Wait, what do you mean? He insulted me!" Draco interrupted.

"From both statements that witnesses had gave, it's clear to see that young Potter only stated ability to do so, while it was you who introduced hostility into the conversation," Bloody Baron agreed with the Gryffindor ghost, but in a voice that left no room for discussion. Draco swallowed hard, thinking hard about controlling his tongue.

"As it is," Sir Nicholas continued, "Gentelmen's rules apply. No curses which would leave permanent marks or disabilities. No physical contact between combatants. Fight continues until one of you do not fall unconscious or yield. Do you agree to those terms?" Both Draco and Harry nodded. "Take your places,"

They stepped couple of steps in opposite directions, drew their wands, and settled into duelling stances. Well, at least Draco did. Harry simply stood there, watching his opponent. They both waited for the signal.

Draco felt a little more nervous than what he would like to, not that he would ever admit it. During that short moment before the call, he thought about every curse he knew, and settled on one which would end it in one go. Then the it was time, and right after the signal he begun to cast a powerful area defective incapacitation curse. It was quite a long cast, but he was sure that he would end it quickly.

Too bad for him that halfway through casting he was distracted by a chunk of wood striking him in the middle of his forehead. He staggered back at the sudden migraine, catching a glimpse of a wand laying in the grass right before Harry picked it up, quickly followed with his own wand being torn before his hands. His visions cleared, and he could clearly see Potter stepping back on the place he started from, with both wands in his hands.

"Do you yield?" Potter asked calmly, and seeing as he was standing some ten feet away, Draco had no other option but to grit his teeth and nod.

"The winner is, Lord Potter," Sir Nicholas called, silencing the crowd that was laughing moments earlier.

"What do you mean, Lord? Potter is no Lord!" Draco ended the sudden silence.

"I beg to differ," Gryffindor ghost replied, hastily explaining, "Rules of the duel state that the side which wins, has the right in the dispute. But since you cannot put a lesser house over a noble one, upon winning, lesser house is automatically elevated to the higher state. Now, young Potter is far from lesser state, but upon winning this duel, his inheritance is enacted immediately," he said, then turned to Harry, "Let me congratulate you on your splendid duel, Lord Potter," Nicholas finished with a formal bow, which Harry returned, and upon seeing his responsibilities fulfilled, the ghost flew towards the castle.

"This cannot be! He cheated!" Draco kept shouting.

"There was no wrongdoing during this duel. No forbidden curse was cast, since no curse was cast at all, and there was no physical contact between the opponents, as your wand is not considered a part of your body," Bloody Baron said in that no-nonsense voice, "You ought to learn from this, young Malfoy," he added before joining the rest of the crowd, which was returning to the castle.

That was the moment when Harry stepped to Draco. "It was a pleasure," he said while handing Draco his wand, which incensed Malfoy more than anything else that happened. He saw Potters back, and having his wand in hand, he took aim... and then had strangest feeling of his life. He felt ferrety.

"You think yourself such a smart guy, don't you?" Moody said with a growl, while stepping closer to the transfigurated student. "You! Will! Not! Act! Like! A! Back! Stabbing! Low! Life!..." the ex-auror kept his monologue, stressing every word with making the ferret jump.

"Professor Moody!" Transfiguration mistress shouted, returning from the castle a little too late to interrupt the duel.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?" he responded, not taking his eyes from the jumping ferret.

"What – what are you doing?" said professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach – Moody, _is that a student_?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, stopping short at the thought.

"Yep," said Moody, happily throwing the ferret around.

"No," she whispered, not believing her eyes, "Moody! We _never_ use Transfiguration as a punishment!" she shouted, regaining her strict composure. "We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!" she continued her tirade, too angry and too involved in shouting at him to remember to help the student, who was still a ferret flamboyantly swimming through air.

"That Head of House thing, that would be me, wouldn't it?" Moody said with a grin that would terrify bravest of people, but upon seeing the state McGonagal was in, he proved that he in fact had some sanity left, because he dropped his toy, and stormed off, grumbling something about "spoiling his fun".

To say that whoever from the original crowd was left could barely stand from laughter at the exchange, was a grand understatement.

Transfiguration teacher calmed down, charmed Draco back, and remember why she returned to that spot in the first place.

"Mr. Malfoy, I'm here to inform you that date of your father's trial had been set, and if you wish to leave for that day, you will need to sign some forms and leave them with... Professor Moody," she sniffed and went back to the castle, leaving Draco alone, dazed, sitting on the grounds, and thinking why whenever Potter was involved, things went so horribly, horribly wrong.

* * *

AN. Whew. If I were still following the chapter-for-chapter-in-the-book schedule... well, simply said, I've just skimmed 13 chapters.


	50. Chapter 50

If God would want me to write Harry Potter, he would have made me J. K. Rowling.

* * *

"You can't tell me that you knew nothing about it!" Hermione insisted, not believing single word Harry was saying. After couple of hours of interrogation that started right after his duel with Malfoy, he himself didn't know what else could he could say to her.

"Hey, if you don't believe me, I'll let you ask someone else," Harry finally gave up, and after fishing the strange mirror his godfather gave him sometime during the summer, "Sirius," he muttered, making the reflection gave way to a fuzzy sort of darkness.

Hermione instantly switched interest, having a new piece of magic that she knew nothing about right in front of her, but Harry, with a single glance, made her sure that there will be enough time to study it _after_ they were done using it. Just as he glance back at the mirror, Sirius came up on the screen, or more exactly, his profile, as he was too busy with something else to watch who exactly was calling.

"Yep, this is Lord Black, can't talk now, leave a message after-" came his disinterested voice, until Harry interjected.

"Sirius!" he said more forcefully, getting a little annoyed with the situation.

"Oh, hey pup. Anything I can do for you?" the older wizard said, finally glancing at the screen.

"First of all, where did you hear that phrase you just used, then follow with a small statement concerning the size of your ego given how you introduced yourself, and – what exactly are you watching?" Harry snapped at the wizard whose gaze kept wandering to the side.

"I bet Remus that- No, wait. Let me start from the beginning. It all started with a canary, a bowl of pudding, and a-" Sirius was beside himself at the memory. Well, until he caught on to the displeased face of his godson, "Right, maybe some other time. As for the phrase, James picked it up from Lily and kept annoying us to no end with it, thought I don't quite remember the joke behind it. As for my ego, I am proud to announce that it's slowly returning to it's former glory!"

Harry shook his head at his godfather's antics, but at least he knew he could proceed to more important topics now that he held at least some amount of Sirius' attention.

"Now, I'm disturbing you because I would like to know who was the Acting Lord Potter?"

"Well, I am," Sirius said matter-of-factly. That stopped Hermione and Harry in their tracks. Sirius on the other hand needed a while to notice something else. "Wait, what do you mean _was_?"

"Because there is no more use for an _Acting_ Lord," the emphasis Harry put on the word was enough of a hint for Sirius, and he starred at the youngster with wide eyes, even as strange sounds could be heard in the background, meaning that his previous entertainment was still continuing. Something as buzzing of a top being spun at top speed, and a strange mix of splashing and chirping, as if-

"Damn!" Sirius exclaimed "And here I thought I will get ahead of you in surprises, what with the Tournament thing and all."

"You mean you thought that silly little thing would equal all those heart-attack alarms you got because of me?" Harry said with a cheeky smile, making Sirius glare at him. "But now that I have your full attention, why are you so certain that it's you?" under Hermione's urging he got back on track.

"Well, it was your parent's idea to make whoever will be your guardian to hold the title. You know, show you around, get you used to the position, responsibilities and all. Haven't I told you anything about this?" Sirius asked while scratching his head.

"No, you didn't," Harry responded, but more towards Hermione than to Sirius.

"Well," Sirius got started again, "I must have forgotten after all this time, you know, since you were living all this time with your relatives, and muggles aren't really welcomed in the Wizengamot chambers-" he cut short, frowning harshly.

"What is it?" Harry quickly picked on, given such an unusual expression on his godfather's face.

"I'll need to check something up, and then I'll get back to you on that, but for now-" at that exact moment there was a massive splash as if something sticky hit a whole stretch of wall in one instance. "Ha! I told you it's impossible!" Sirius exclaimed, once again turning to the side.

"It's totally doable!" Remus's protesting voice reached them through the mirror, "I just need to make this canary to – GET IT!" was a sudden shout, after which a yellow blur went right in front of the mirror just before the mirror itself was knocked from the place it was standing on. After that, all that Harry and Hermione could hear was a sound of two people running around, mixed with furious chirping.

Harry switched the mirror off, and seeing expression on Hermione's face, simply said "You _really _don't want to know what those two can do with a canary, child's toy and a bowl of pudding..."

* * *

Wednesday came, and with it the first lesson of Defence Against the Dark Arts, which Harry's year was eagerly awaiting. There were many stories that you could hear about Moody's class, but whatever they heard, didn't even come close to their class. And it all started with:

"Can anyone tell me why Unforgivable Curses are called that?" the grizzled auror asked right after telling them to put away their books and expressing in not few words what he thought of Ministry's policy that anyone was too young to learn how to defend themselves.

"Because they're unforgivable," Draco Malfoy stated like it explained everything.

"Yeah, and balls are round," Moody barked, "Anyone else with an answer suiting a five year old or are we going to get some answers here?"

"Because they're misused," everyone turned to Harry, and he was hard pressed to not start counting just how many times that happened per day.

"And why is that?" Moody asked, giving him means to continue.

"Because Unforgivable Curses were invented as medical spells," Harry answered, and a complete silence fell onto the class.

"I don't think they believe you, laddie," Moody commented from his spot, though it seemed that he took great pleasure from the student's stunned expressions, "You feel like shedding some more light on that?"

"But where do I start?" Harry asked, more himself than anyone else, "Wizards discovered, long before muggles did, that in most cases you don't die instantly. Most of the times someone just needs a "kick start" to get their body going again after their injuries were healed, even if only partially. Cruciatus does just that, sends a spark along your nervous system, telling your body to get back to work. Problem is, the more energy you put into it, and the longer you hold it, the more it hurts," Harry said, catching something disturbing in Neville's expression.

"Then," he kept going with the explanation, "when a person is breathing again, but still in heck of a lot of pain, disoriented, thinking everything around as a threat, trashing, kicking, screaming... It is quicker and a lot more efficient to take control over them than to try and negotiate their cooperation in situation when every single second counts. Imperius is the perfect spell for that, or any situation when mentally unstable patients refuse any kind of treatment." Harry held everyone on the edge of their seats with this new piece of information.

"Now, I don't believe anybody thinks that list of spells just dropped from the sky and we had them forever. While magic is here from the start of time, the spells that we use now had to be invented. As it is, there weren't always counters or potions for everything, even now there aren't. So, think it through, which would you prefer. A death after a day, week, a whole month even, getting your body slowly eaten by a new type of flesh rotting curse, with your family staying at the bedside and doctors constantly reminding you that there is nothing to be done... Or a quick, clean, painless death?" Harry asked, reminding everyone about the last spell from the list. There was a total silence in the classroom as everyone thought about the image.

"Now, it might be shocking, but there are worse spells than the Unforgivables, which can do to a person things even more unspeakable," Harry picked up again, "But that's just it. Spells are tools, they are meaningless unless they are used, and what gives Unforgivables their name isn't the harm they do, but the simple fact that spells that were meant to make life of people more manageable - medical spells - are used nowadays as means to bring death, destruction, pain and so much more. Not the spells, not what they do, but that behaviour is unforgivable,"

"And why are we to believe a word that you're saying?" Draco sneered, by this time regaining his normal composure.

"Well, you don't have to, because there are places called libraries, or book stores, or any other that have things called books in them, and in those books are words, and if you read words carefully, you might even learn something," Harry responded, making Draco feel like he was a 5 year old again. But Malfoy wasn't allowed any kind of comeback, because:

"Finally!" Moody exclaimed, up until now staying silent, "A wizard sane enough to take his well-being into his own hands, regardless of this "We'll teach you later" crap that the Ministry is spewing. 25 points for Gryffindor, because of Potter's excellent answer and his fine attitude." he decreed, making Slytherin's scowl, student's from Gryffindor cheer, and one Hermione Granger glare at her friend because she thought that he was hiding some grand books from her.

"Everything Potter said is true, and it wasn't until 1717 that those three spells were made "unforgivable"," Moody carried on with the lesson, but then stopped short, contemplating something for a while. "Now, there's something that I haven't done in any other class, but seeing that we have a person who knows what he's talking about, it might just work. Law states that using any of those three spells on a human being results in a one way trip to Azkaban, but like always with laws, there is a loophole. It is allowed to use Imperius by a qualified instructor, which by chance I am, to show effects of the spell, for teaching purposes only, to his students, given that there is other adult acting like a witness to the proceedings. Seeing as I'm teacher, your my students, and Lord Potter, if you will," Moody gestured with his hand to the side of the classroom, stating clearly what role Harry would be taking in this.

"Now wait a minute!" like always, Draco voiced his outrage, "You mean that you will curse us one by one, and Potter is the one to testify that everything was fair? My father won't-"

"Malfoy, I don't give a rat's ass about what that scum that you call father will or won't, but if you're too afraid to come up front, just say so, and I'll be more than happy to kick your ass out of my classroom like a little ferret you are," Moody snapped back harshly, but after glaring at him for couple of seconds, then looking to the side where Harry was waiting patiently with his brow raised, Draco just grit his teeth and stayed in his place.

"But Malfoy do have a point," Moody allowed, and turned to his witness, "Will you be willing to be questioned under Veritaserum, if there would be need for it?"

"No, I wouldn't," Harry responded, allowing Draco a smile of triumph which vanished as quickly as it appeared when the raven haired boy continued, "But I would be willing to be questioned under Veritaserum _about this particular class_," he finished, stressing last couple of words, which made Moody's deformed face twist in something of a smile.

"Smart, boy, very smart. That's exactly what I expected to hear," Moody allowed, then "Everyone form a line!" he barked like he was commanding a platoon. "If anybody doesn't want to participate, leave now!" he added. Nobody left.

For next couple of minutes Harry stood back and watched Moody go through the students one by one, casting the spell on a person that stepped forth, command them to do some nonsense thing like jumping-jacks, push-ups, twirl in place or anything of the sort, then release them and do it to another person in the line. Soon enough the line dwindled to nothing, at which point Moody turned to him.

"You want to give it a try?" he asked, and Harry simply stepped to the centre of the class.

"Wait," Neville piped in, "who will be the adult witness for Harry? You said it is required,"

"For the students, yes. Potter is a legal adult, he can allow me to – another of those bloody loopholes. It is supposed to be something like "I think I'm loosing control. Please, curse me or something bad will happen" case, but your reasoning behind it might be as various as, "I'm to lazy to get up today. Mind making me get up?". I hate those lawyer talks," Moddy grumbled, then got back on track, "The main thing is, do you agree to what will happen now?"

Harry took a big breath, nodded, and didn't even have time to think what will happen, when he was overtaken by a new sensation. It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him. In the exact moment that happened, the classroom begun to shine, as if suddenly filled with very bright light. Harry covered his eyes, fighting off the glow, and then:

'Jump onto the desk... jump onto the desk...' he heard Moody's voice like it was reaching him from somewhere far away. The strange thing was, the command was instantly followed by the laughter.

Harry removed his hand, squinted his eyes and could see some figures in the distance, barely noticeable in the sparkling light. But even further behind them, there was something massive, something as... buildings.

All this time as Harry tried to piece this new situation together, the laughter in his head grew louder and louder in response to Moody's voice, which was becoming more demanding with every given command. In that instance Harry caught on, that he was somewhere on the brink of conciousness, that he was observing town in his head and all it's inhabitant's, and they were all laughing because:

'It's simply another voice in my head,' Harry thought, and in that moment one figure became clear, revealing Magie grinning to him in the distance, right before the light dimmed, and he was once again standing in the classroom, seeing clearly Moody standing right in front of him with wand drawn, and somewhere in his head, Harry could still hear his voice trying to exert control over him, but it wasn't as loud or relevant as before.

On the outside the whole sequence didn't take more than a second or two, during which everyone thought that Moody was trying to think of something special. That was the moment when Harry begun doing his best MC Hammer's dance style impression. Everyone watched the show when a sound similar to stones being ground in the blender filled the classroom. Students exchanged startled glances, then begun looking for the source of the sound, and in the same moment everyone gazed at the teacher standing at the fron of the class. There was no mistaking it. The man was laughing.

"Fine, you can stop now. You've made your point," Moody said after he regained his composure.

"Wait, I've always wanted to try this," Harry responded while making his way across the classroom walking to the side with really small, quick steps, and then finishing with a spin.

"I.. I don't get it," Draco voiced everyone's confusion.

"Potter here, is one of the few people who have enough integrity and will to be put under Imperius and still act as they please," Moody announced, and everyone turned to the boy in question, and in stunned silence watched him casually follow the steps to "U Can't Touch This".

* * *

AN. I wanted to do something special for the 50th chapter- By the way, it's a year since I started writing this! Well, this has to do, since I don't know if I will be able to write anything more this week, and I wouldn't want to again leave you without a chapter for two whole weeks.

I know that I'm not overly original in writing that Unforgivables were medical spells, but I'm all for the concept of "Spells are tools, it depends on people who use them if they're good or bad".

If it so happens that I will have some additional time, expect another chapter tomorrow. If not, then as usual, during next weekend.

Also, I've created temporary (depending if you will want to use it) forum for this story:

.net/myforums/God_B_Damned/2289309/

If you want to ask any questions regarding my take on (wandless)magic, it would be a good time to ask them now, because:

In the next chapter! (something that should have been here) Harry starts teaching his friends wandless magic!


	51. Chapter 51

AN. Two last chapters were without this part, and that's because EnjoyEveryMoment has little time to spend on fanfiction. This is probably the last time you'll see such notice, since after long talk, it was said that she won't beta this story any more, and since she got me through the worst of it, I think it won't be so bad to leave the chapters un-betaed... at least I hope so.

I'm not really saying goodbye's to her, since we're plotting something together (but that's, quite literally, another story... for somewhere after I'm done with this one), but you guys might say a Thank you for making your life at least a little bit easier.

* * *

I wonder if J. K. Rowling ever needed a thorough proof-reading for her stories... But since I don't know that, I can't be her.

* * *

"How is it that you can do those things? And I'm not talking only about your ability to fight of Imperius! I mean, I still can't understand what spells you used to do all those pranks in Slytherin dorms! Or those stunts during your Quidditch games! I swear, every single time you do that my hands hurt from gripping the seat-" Hermione kept on ranting while still following Harry, not really noticing where he was leading her.

Harry meanwhile just shook his head at the never-ending string of words, and he had to wonder at how that girl still managed to breathe. He knew that he was the main reason for her annoyance, and finally managed to find the time to keep his promise he gave her before the end of the previous year. But when he caught the last sentence, he stopped.

Hermione's tirade was stopped abruptly when she bumped into something. Concentrating on the thing in front of her she noticed the tie in Gryffindor collors, then lips quirked in amusement, but, given Harry's new height, she had to actually look up to notice his eyes, laughing at her exasperation. She felt extremely self-concious, standing so close to him...

"Now, I promised already that I'll explain it all," Harry said, mindless of Hermione's thoughts "But would you rather do it here or somewhere more suitable for longer discussion?"

She just nodded in response, still maintaining that baffled expression. Harry smiled fully, and with quick "Come on, we don't want to be late," continued on his way.

Hermione had some trouble to convince her legs that it really was time to start moving again, but once that was taken care off, another thought occurred to her. "Late?" she asked, picking up the pace to catch up to Harry, but in the exact same moment they rounded the corner and she no longer had to ask "For what?", because she clearly could see certain someone waiting in the middle of an empty corridor. Recognising Rose, Hermione also noticed the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, thinking that she didn't remember being in this particular part of the castle before.

She had only enough time to take it in, when Neville and Luna appeared on the other end of the corridor.

"Right on time," Harry said as a way of greeting when everyone met somewhere in the middle. But he didn't stop, and everyone stood still, puzzled at their friend's unexpected need to walk along that particular stretch of wall. Moments later, they were more interested in the door that appeared out of nowhere.

At this point everyone had a question or two, but Harry silenced them with a gesture, simply inviting them inside. The room itself wasn't anything they expected, simply couple of seats and a desk in the middle, with some parchment and quills on top of it.

"So, what's with the room?" Rose beat Hermione to it when everyone was seated.

"Everything in due time," Harry responded, placing a quill and a piece of parchment in front of everybody.

"What are we going to do with those?" Neville asked, checking the items he was given and finding that there was nothing special about them.

"We're going to write some lines," Harry replied, taking his seat again.

His friends became very quiet, not knowing if they heard him correctly, and later thinking that this whole thing must be some kind of a joke.

"I need to show you something which will make explaining so much quicker," he continued seeing their expressions, "And I don't think you'll be disappointed," at which everyone gave a nod of agreement, that they'll go along for now.

But when they attempted to grab their quills and prepare them-self to write something down, Harry interjected. "Nope, I don't want you to write it like that," at which his friends were slightly surprised, but Hermione just shrugged and took her wand out, an action everyone followed, though Rose wasn't so sure if her would be helpful, seeing that it was her second year at Hogwart.

But Harry wasn't done yet, "I don't really want you to use those either,". At that point, his friends were seriously confused.

"Then how are we supposed to do it?" Hermione snapped in exasperation.

"What do you guys know about wandless magic?"

No one responded to that question, even Hermione was so shocked that she forgot she was angry at him moments later. The state was short lived, and she once again felt her ire.

"Come on! You said you'll explain yourself and now this! Everyone knows that it's impossible... to... write..." her outburst was interrupted by a sound of scratching, and she talked slower and quieter the longer she was staring at the quill that at the start of her outburst was lying in front of Harry, now writing all by itself while Harry remained some 3feet from it. She glanced couple of times at him, to make sure that he wasn't playing tricks on her, but he simply sat there, with a brow raised.

The quill did it's final loop, laid itself down, and then the parchment lifted itself from the table to proudly present, _Like this?_ written in Harry's messy handwriting on the previously blank space.

"B-But... You can't... I mean..." Hermione tried to formulate words, which was more that could be said for Rose, Neville and Luna, all who were, not really taught, but convinced that an evidence of wandless magic being used freely was of the same calibre as the second coming of Christ.

"Now, before you even think that it's all just a trick, I'm going to prove that you can do it too," Harry continued. He was about to propose an easy exercise, but seeing as Hermione was still staring at the quill like there was nothing else in the world he just shook his head, stood up, and while standing right behind her seat, covered her eyes with his hands.

"Wha-" she was startled out of her daze.

"It's easier to look at darkness than to imagine nothing at all," he explained, "Now relax," Harry added while rubbing along her neck with his thumbs in a soothing manner.

He waited until tension left her body, and when she was sitting relaxed, he started:

"Imagine that there is a big room. In fact so big, that you, standing by your desk, only a single candle lit, can't see anything at all. You aren't concerned with that, since you've made your study yourself, and it has to be like that to fill all the books you posses. You are more concerned with a big book that's lying on your desk. It's your journal in which you keep all your findings and thoughts. But you are far too busy to sit and write anything, having so much materials to read. For that you have a special quill that writes by itself-" at which he stopped.

The point was for Hermione to make a connection with her magic, by using terms that appealed to her, like books, _her_ study, _her journal_... but the vision was so vivid in her mind that the quill that until now laid still sprung up and begun writing first thing in her mind.

At Harry's abrupt stop Hermione lost the image, and the quill that for one second was scratching furiously once again collapsed, leaving unfinished _It feels-_

"What were you thinking of?" Harry asked after he picked the parchment and noticed what she had written.

"N-Nothing!" she responded after reading the half of the sentence, and a flush came to her cheeks at the thought that she enjoyed so much what he was doing to her neck, "Probably just some stray thought," she continued in a more controlled manner. She was sparred from Harry's questioning gaze when:

"No way..." a quiet mutter caught them by surprise.

Harry remembered that there were others watching what just happened, so he turned to the speaker, "So, Neville. Want to be next?" His friend just nodded stupidly.

Neville declined Harry's "help", saying that he'll manage, so Harry once again took his seat, and seeing that the other boy seemed to be relaxed enough, he begun another story – one more suiting his friends interests.

"There is a storm raging outside, and you find yourself, for the time being, isolated in your greenhouse, all alone, waiting for the storm to pass. There is no light inside. Your last candle burnt out some time ago, as you haven't anticipated that something might stop you. The only source of light that is available, are the lightning that are cutting the sky from time to time. Normally, people would be afraid, since that sort of light leaves the images disfigured, like old, gnarled trees, looking like scary shadows reaching at you with their stretched out fingers. But you're not afraid. It's your greenhouse. You know all the plants growing in there, as well as those outsides. But the branches still keep scratching the window. Maybe that's not the wind. Maybe that's the old tree growing outside trying to tell you something..." Harry stopped, smiling, "What's the message, Neville?"

Neville opened his eyes, catching the last moment of his quill lying itself back on it's proper place. With trembling fingers, he reached for the parchment, and read simple _Don't be afraid_.

"Good advice," he looked up at Harry, then back down at the piece of parchment he was holding, still not believing it.

Since Hermione and Neville were still not able to respond, Harry turned to another one of his friends. Luna was already waiting eagerly, and as he turned, she closed her eyes, waiting for him to begin. He just smiled, because for her, he had other plans.

Luna waited, her eyes closed, prepared to visualise things... then waited some more, but still, Harry wasn't speaking. Finally, she opened her eyes again, seeing him just sit there, staring back at her. She pouted, thinking that he couldn't think of anything for her, but that just made Harry smile more.

"Luna, is there one of those special friends of your somewhere around?" he asked. As an answer she started looking around, and after a moment nodded happily. "Could you ask him to write what he is? I would really like to know," Luna turned, and was about to speak, when Harry silenced her with a quiet "Shh," his finger on his lips and all. When she turned back to him, he simply mouthed "In your head," making her frown.

But still, she did as she was told, and for a short while it seemed that she was simply staring at a random place in the air, when that place started to move towards her parchment, and soon enough, the quill started writing on it's own.

Seeing that done, he turned to the last person in their group, only to notice that Rose was watching intently as her quill finished, not only a line, but a whole sketch of a rose. He smiled, once again remembering that younger children had it easier, not having to fight so much inhibitions that came with age.

"But it wasn't possible before," Luna's distressed voice caught Harry's attention. He turned and saw her staring at her parchment with a rare scowl. "Why is this possible?" she demanded. At that, everyone once again turned to Harry.

"What if I told you that what you just did is possible anywhere? You just need to do one simple thing,"

"What?" a chorus of voices replied.

"You would have to stop using your wands," he announced, and his friends once again got that baffled expression. "It's stupid, really, but wizards nowadays think wandless magic is impossible, for the simple fact that they're using wands," seeing as it didn't explain anything, he got down to the basics. "Magic is all about energy. When you cast a spell with a wand, you use some energy. It's possible to cast without a wand, but still, you need energy to be there. Now, imagine a dam. You start with little water, but over time, you get more and more of it. But if the water is too high, you usually let some out to keep it on certain level. If you wouldn't, it would just keep rising and rising, in the end going over the top. Magic with wands is just that, letting energy through a valve. If you don't do it..." he left it hanging, simply pointing to the quills lying on the table.

"Wait a minute," Rose interjected, "So you say that if I haven't ever, even once in my life, held a wand in my hands – I could do wadnless magic?"

"Well, not holding – casting spells, but sure," Harry allowed, Rose wanted to continue just how ridiculous the notion was, when Neville slapped himself on the forehead.

"Under-age magic!" he exclaimed.

"10 points to the gentleman," Harry joked, once again directing everyone's attention to himself, "But Neville's right. Under-age magic is nothing different than uncontrolled wandless magic. The only thing that children who can do it must do, is to learn how to control it. But it's like that with anything else at that age, from tying your shoelaces to riding a bike," he finished with a shrug.

"But what with the thing you said earlier? About the energy," Luna voiced, "If that's true, then we should be able to do wandless magic, at least at times, and we don't. Why is that?"

"Because you're misusing your bodies," Harry said, and not even waiting for the question, he picked an example and started explaining. "You ever wondered why old wizards look like prunes?"

"Because they're old," Neville voiced the obvious answer, "I mean, all old people look like that,"

"To say the truth, answer to that question is more complicated," Harry once again took over, "Let's say you have a strain in your leg, and that it doesn't even hurt that much, you just can't put your full weight on it. Then, instead of waiting for it to heal, you start walking, running, playing and all that. Since it's damaged, but like I said, it doesn't really hurt that much, there is always a risk of making it worse. Now, the same thing applies to the whole body, but here, the strain can be divided. So, while you can live with one organ not working properly, you need to watch yourself, or else your condition may affect other organs, making your whole body worse. But with magic..." he stopped for a while, thinking if he ever thought about it.

"That's the point," he continued, "you don't really know where it comes from. But – you remember example with the dam? - If you keep letting too much out, your body takes responsibility to somehow divide the strain. I mean, is it logical in any way for wizards to live longer than muggles, but still maintain the same strains in the same age? That means that you suffer from all the signs of old age, from grey hair and wrinkles, to some illnesses, twice as long." he finished, but then he remembered another thing "In muggle world, summer break is only to give children time to relax. In magical world, it has more to do with children needing time away from magic. That's why you can't do wandless magic at the end of the summer. You're barely done with getting your body back to form, and suddenly you have to go through that again,"

"But if what you're saying is true, why would anyone use wands?" Hermione asked, slightly distressed at this new turn of events.

"Because once, wands were quite powerful tools - and before you ask me why I used past tense. It's not like they don't have the same capabilities as before. It's because, like with anything else, humans have the tendency to make things more comfortable," Harry said, but then got a better idea. "Hermione, can you give us some light?" Hermione, remembering all of the latest findings, looked at her wand like it was covered in something foul. "You did it for so long, I don't think you will suddenly get sick, just because you have a new knowledge," Harry said with a smile.

She relented and cast a simple Lumos. "Okay, now make it brighter," was Harry's simple request.

Hermione blinked. The request was so stupid that she had to think about it to actually reply. "Harry, you know perfectly well that you can't do that,"

"What do you mean?" he asked, while flicking his fingers, making a soft glow to emanate from them. Everyone stared at him like he had done something incredible, but to him, it was as easy as lighting a zippo – in fact, that was exactly how he visualised it. He thought about the flame being bigger, and moments later the room was filled with glaring light. Immediately he did the opposite, and for a short while he could do a perfect ET impersonation, before he made the light on his finger go away. His friends were dumbstruck at the display, so he picked it up and added another piece of information to their growing knowledge about wandless magic.

"Today, chanting is used only in rituals, but when wands were a brand new invention every single spell had at least four words. You actually had to understand Latin to be able to cast, since those additional words were responsible for exact parameters of the spell. Now, we have only the uncommon Maxima, like in Lumos Maxima, but that's just about it. Living in luxury doesn't really make you want do even more, and with wizards having everything from a flick of a wand, it's invitation to be even more lazy. So, while wands are powerful in terms of energy, now they aren't as appealing. Once you could adjust your spells to what you needed to do. Nowadays, the standardised versions of the spells are nowhere near the optimal, so you either waste too much energy in the first place, or need to do the spell at least twice,"

"But how do you do spells without a wand?" Luna asked, still staring at her parchment.

"Just like you did it before," Harry answered while pointing to the quills lying on the table.

"But... I didn't-" Luna said in a small voice.

"Come now," Harry came closer and made her look at him, "You know why you will never be able to show anyone your magnificent animals?" she shook her head, "It's because they're all yours, and only yours,"

"You mean to say that they're not there," she sniffed.

"No, what I'm trying to say is that you see something, but it isn't quite what it appears to be," at which it was easy to see that even Luna got confused, "Now, there isn't anything wrong with you. In fact, you have a very rare gift. Even when you didn't know you could do wandless magic, you could sense the energy. Energy is always there, and if there's enough intent tied to it, you were unknowingly, in your own way, experiencing other people's spells, be it wandless or not. But that's just the beauty of it. With wand magic you have all this technical stuff. Flick, jab, lots of words. But wandless magic is all about you, your point of view, your look on the world. We all experience things differently, and why should it be any different with magic? Hermione feels strongly about books, Neville has his plants, you have your mystical animals, and Rose-" Harry stopped, turning to the person he had forgotten for a while, and saw her still sitting in her seat, with parchments all around her and quill practically flying across the one in front of her. He picked random one from the ground, and he snorted. "Cartoons?"

"Got any problem with that?" Rose snapped, lifting her gaze from the newest sketch.

"Nope, no problem at all. I think cartoons are neat," he answered with a smile.

"Sure they are!" Rose cheered happily, returning to her work.

That exchange actually got a good chuckle out of Luna.

"But why is it so important to actually... "imagine" things?" Hermione asked, so far only listening to the discussion.

"You sure that's the word you wanted to use?" Harry asked, getting a flush as a response. "You might use the word "hallucination" for it, but you can say "day dreaming" just as easily. No matter what you call it, it still doesn't change the fact that you're seeing things that aren't really there, right?" Harry asked, and Luna actually smiled in response, "But that's how you do spells wandlessly. You put new elements to the known world in such a way that you achieve the wanted result. That's why personal approach is best, since your body, your magic, will respond best to that kind of stimulation. As for the question if it's needed... Well, I wouldn't want to do something strange every time my temper rises and I tell someone to go to hell. Having to imagine something means that you have to think about it. It requires clearance of mind, unable you to act when you're angry – which is a good thing if you ask me," Hermione just nodded to that kind of response.

"So, are we going to talk all night or do you want to try something else while we're still in this magnificent room that allows us to temporarily do wandless magic?" Harry asked, and received a group cheer in response.

"Wait, one more thing," Neville interrupted as everyone was getting to work, "How long does learning wandless magic take?"

"You know, learning, and not only wandless magic, but learning in general, is a lot like fashion,"

Everyone made strange faces at Harry, proving that even now that they knew his secret, they still couldn't follow him.

"You know," he continued", because you're never done with it, and there is always something to improve change, or do once again,"

Getting that kind of response proved to Neville that even in strangest situations Harry still was himself, so he just shook his head and get to work with everyone else.

* * *

AN. Not really how it was supposed to be, since I lost my notes related to this chapter. Still I think it turned OK. If someone has some other questions you would like to be answered, or if I finally find my notes, there can be nother chapter of this kind. If in the following week there still won't be any questions, I'm going further with the plot (we're still in the first week of class!), and the forum will be deleted (seeing as nobody uses it).


	52. Chapter 52

Hey, guys! You want to know the home address of J. K. Rowling? sigh Yeah, me too... I wonder where I would be living if I was her...

* * *

Time passed, and even as Harry's friends grumbled that they couldn't throw their wands straight away to make sure they could do wandless magic on their own as soon as possible, they still understood his request of maintaining appearances for the simple fact of not disturbing normal wizards' lives by shock, panic or even struggle for this new-found power. In fact, they did it more out of respect, since even as Harry didn't need his wand at all - news that quite shocked them - he still acted like everyone else, while their first impulse was to run out and shout it to the world.

It was probably that cover up that was the main reason why they were having so much fun in the Room of Requirements, a story of which Harry included among others regarding wandless magic. The things he was telling his friends seemed to them quite absurd, but as their skills evolved, they believed more and more of it.

As for the training itself, Rose made excellent progress. With her young mind not bound by limitations of a developed personality and additional creativity that came from that, not saying anything about the fun her kind of seeing magic gave her, she had no problem in finding her way around anything from the "beginner's set of exercises" Harry prepared for them. He was hard pressed to keep her busy, because when she wasn't, her mischievousness took better of her, and she started... "exploring".

Luna also didn't had much difficulty, the bulk of it being due to her sudden change in understanding the world around her, but once she got used to that, it was as easy as to appoint the animals she already knew all about to new functions. But during their training Harry noticed a peculiar thing. The more Luna understood her animals, and the more control she had over them, the less dreamy her eyes became, and if it was even possible, she became more witty than even Hermione. Oh, she still maintained her fun personality, it was just that she seemed less and less distracted by unimportant things.

Surprisingly, after the two, Neville made the most progress. When Harry gave him a task, he would fumble and stumble, saying how he didn't know or wasn't skilled enough, and if he just had a plant that done what he needed... At which point he would imagine just such a plant, seeing it so vividly, or even understanding how it should be working in terms of biology, that his magic, aided by his love of plants - with such rare findings in particular - would snap to action in no time.

Hermione had the worst of it. She was used to schedules, study-plans, lots of books followed with tons of notes. Without Harry's help, like he did during their first meeting, she couldn't understand how she could apply her love for books into her own imaginative world. The fact that everyone got on with their work, combined with her need to be best, didn't help her at all, as her frustration would unable her to concentrate at all.

Harry, seeing the trouble his friend was in, immediately thought up solution.

"Hermione?" he asked softly.

She didn't even reply, just helplessly lifting her gaze from the feather in her hands, similar to the ones everyone else was practising with.

Harry wasn't discouraged by that, and smiling lightly, he asked:

"You ever thought of becoming a writer?"

Upon hearing that, Hermione immediately sat up straighter, and only when Harry chuckled slightly and she followed his gaze to see what he found so funny, did she notice that her feather had turned into a quill, even without her realising it.

"You should think about it," Harry commented with a smile as he walked away to check how others work was progressing.

And, boy, did she think about it. The dark room Harry made her visualise at the very beginning in very short time was changed into vast library arranged around her working space. But it wasn't filled with books – just books – like she might have dreamed once. Her library was filled with _her _books. And not only with that. Among short stories, novels, and other usual kind of text, you could find things as various as even a movie script, is she really needed something "graphic".

But the largest change happened at her working place. Pictures, paintings, photos, small items, token. Once clear desk soon became surrounded with mass of items, as Hermione's love for books changed itself into love of stories that could be told from a single picture, items being used as props to twist the fate of the world, and most importantly, facts being tied in strange and surprising ways. In one word, she did all the things a wandless magic user should do to find their own way.

But even more than that. Soon enough Hermione stopped watching everybody else to make sure she was the best, knew the most, or worked the hardest. She was more interested in making sure that her own work was better with every step, setting her own best as border she had to cross. And it was that drive, that steady work and growth progress, that allowed her to catch up and even surpass her friends, but by that time, being first wasn't any kind of award. Her own work was the challenge, the prize and the ultimate fun.

* * *

It was quite some time after their trainings were on, when Hermione lost some of her steam and others got used to the amount of fun that wandless magic could give, that everyone remembered about one particular thing they've omitted so far.

"Harry," Hermione stopped what she was doing at the sudden reminder of the fact, "you know what we all use as our _focus_," she used the word they determined would suit best what they do with magic, "But what is yours?"

The question stopped everyone else, and they turned to Harry who smiled slightly hearing it.

"Well, I thought you would bring up the topic of where I know all those things from first, but if you want it this way..." he said with a shrug, gaining a mock glare from Hermione as she huffed in annoyance – more at herself, that she forgot all about the second question, than at him, that he just waited for the situation.

"You feel like it?" Harry asked while looking somewhere over their shoulders, like there was something behind them. Knowing that it was Harry, they exchanged confused glances, asking one another without a word if it was one of his jokes, or was he really going to show them how he did magic.

"No!" came defiant voice voice right behind them, and they jumped at the surprise, quickly turning to see who said it, but seeing no one standing behind them.

Harry just shook his head, knowing for sure that Magie was in her famous playful mood. If he didn't knew it instinctively, seeing the girl say the word, then quickly crouch low and sneak among them right under their line of sight was a big hint.

"Come on, don't make me beg you," Harry said, playing along and directing his words in totally different direction than Magie was standing in. It made his friends concentrate on him once again, which Magie used to her advantage, tapping them at their shoulders and making them turn in all different directions.

At her touch thought, even with little training, their magic that the room supplied reacted instinctively, and they begun seeing out of the corner of their eyes a shadow sneeking here and there, but disappearing faster than they were able to follow it.

"Harry! That's not funny!" Rose was the first one to loose her temper, and she turned towards him, just to see him place a finger on his lips, and when everyone else noticed it, he did a countdown on his finger from 3...2..1... and did a step to the side.

What they saw in the place he was standing moments ago was a figure stuck in mid-step, like a burglar in some old film that was suddenly caught by the spotlight. The figure didn't stand there for long, because as soon as the person noticed that her position was compromised, she pointed an accusing finger at Harry.

"Traitor!" she exclaimed with a hand on her chest, in a pose of great hurt, "And here I was having so much fun,"

"Hey! Don't blame me for everything," Harry responded just as animatedly, "You knew full well what I was going to do, and if you didn't want it, you could stay hidden. And besides, that's one more point for me,"

"It isn't about what you did, but how you did it! And like hell I'm going to give you the lead over such a cheap trick like this," Magie objected, crossing her hands over her chest and turning her back on Harry.

They bickered like that, mindless of the people watching the exchange. Harry's friends on the other hand had to deal with shock that this new piece of information invoked. They were unconsciously noting down to not ask Harry for any secret of his in fear of some kind of trauma, since it seemed every new information was more shocking than the one before.

"She's a girl," Neville muttered once he could speak again.

"I can see that," Rose mumbled back, her eyes wide.

"But he meant that Harry's magic was a girl," Luna corrected absent-mindedly, as she herself had yet to adjust to it.

"I said that I can see that," Rose mumbled again, stating clearly that she understood the situation, but her eyes were still wide from the shock.

While her friend were gawking at the fact, Hermione was more concerned with what kind of a girl Harry's magic was. She saw her lovely hair, sparkling eyes, her figure, her way of interacting with Harry... Hermione's first thought was that she could never compare. She caught herself, blinked, shook her head, and when hear head was clear again, she started wondering why she would be comparing herself to the girl next to Harry...

"She's a girl," Neville said again a little louder, as he was repeating the statement over and over again in order to get used to the notion. This time it was loud enough to stop the two that were still bickering.

"Of course I'm a girl," Magie responded, then looked herself over with wrinkled brow, "I wonder what else could look like me, maybe-"

"DON'T!" Harry shouted immediately, "Don't even think about it!" he said a little calmer, still remembering how Gladstone came to life. Magie just shrugged.

"But you're Harry's focus, aren't you?" Luna interjected.

But before Harry could explain, "I'll take care of it," Magie announced, taking a big breath in, shutting her nose with her fingers, and puffing her cheeks out. In fact, her cheeks weren't the only thing that puffed out, as her whole body begun to swell, and soon enough, she changed into a balloon in form of a girl that drifted up to the ceiling. But upon the contact with the solid stone, the balloon broke, spilling confetti over the floor beneath it, and Magie dropped to the floor, but no longer in her usual clothes, now wearing a simple dress fitting an assistant of a magician. After breaking her fall, she did the usual "Ta-Da" pose. She stood there for a while, and, a little impatient, coughed demandingly in Harry's direction.

Harry sighed, and in a tired voice announced, "I give to you, Magie," another cough,"Fine. I give you Magic Magie," more demanding cough, "She's charming," Harry gave up and repeated the usual thing he said when they were young, slumping slightly at the same time, and rubbing his temples to fight of the migraine that he felt was comming.

Magie, hearing the last praise, gave Harry's friends her most dazzling smile and did couple of humble bows, as if being applauded by a vast audience. Catching the figures standing before her, or more exactly the fact that they were frozen in total befuddlement, stopped her act.

"Well, I don't really know how to explain it any better," she said while scratching her head, "Maybe if I had a minute or two more to prepare... Give me a moment-" she continued, already thinking about her next act, but Harry interrupted her.

"People," he said, breaking his friends out of their stupor, "I see different kind of people, with different skills, personalities, and whatnot. Out of it also comes that I can use many man-made objects. I mean, small things like pens, flash-lights – something which you can have with you at any given time. I haven't really thought about anything bigger... Hmm, I wonder if bigger things would work," Harry voiced out loud, reminding himself of his own study and research that he had yet to do.

"I wonder how fun driving a roller could be..." Magie voiced from her spot, staring somewhere far away with dreamy look on her face.

"DON'T!" Harry snapped to attention, "Don't even think about it!" he repeated himself again, starting to think that having bigger audience made Magie even more adventurous.

"I'm starting to understand why talking with Harry is sometimes such a hard thing to do," Neville said to his friends, and three girls standing beside him just nodded, too stupefied to respond.

"Now as to where he learned to do those things," a new voice said, and Harry groaned immediately covering his eyes with his hand, instantly knowing that there wouldn't come anything good out of this one.

Without any warning from Harry that it wasn't the wisest idea, his friends simply turned to see who had just spoken. Three people raised in magical community and one well read muggle-born instinctively knew who the person in front of them was, even after only once glance. But then the figure spoke.

"Hello. I'm Sallazar Slytherin. It's nice to meet you," the man said while extending his hand.

It was the last straw, and as one, four bodies fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Strange," commented Slytherin while looking between his hand and people who just fainted, "And here I thought I'll get this modern welcome thing right at the first try. I wonder what went wrong,"

"You have to use your wrist more," Magie commented, not tearing herself away from her squash practice.

Looking between Salazar, his unconcious friends, or Magie's attempts to beat the wall, Harry didn't know if he should sigh, groan, leave the room, or simply shoot himself.

* * *

After Harry managed to make figments of his imagination go away and he woke his friends up, some explanations were needed.

"Okay," he started, a little unsure how to deal with this, "Let's for now forget on what I focus while doing magic,"

"You mean, the fact that you have people living in your head?" Luna commented with half smile.

"Yes, Luna," Harry responded with his head hung, "Could we skip that part?"

Luna didn't say anything more, still maintaining that smile of hers, and others just nodded, more than happy to forget about it for good.

"But I really need to talk to you about Salazar, because you might be wondering why suddenly one of the founders came around."

"Or who else you have hidden in there," Luna added offhandedly, with an innocent voice.

"Luna, could you stop it already?" Harry asked a little exasperated.

"Well," she scrunched her nose, "I think I'm perfectly able to do that, but I can't really tell if I will," she replied while thinking about the options. To say that the rest of their company appreciated the fact that Harry himself couldn't deal with the kind of speech he used so often was an understatement. After one more tired glance from Harry, Luna relented, "Okay, I'll be good now," she said with a genuine smile, and settled in for one of Harry's lectures.

"Thank you," he breathed a sigh of relief, making a mental note to make sure in the future that he was prepared for the stres that was involved with letting Magie "loose". Then he told them about the Chamber of Secrets.

"I believe you," Rose said immediately after he was done. Others looked at her strangely. "What? I said it already that near him, everything is possible," she responded with a shrug to the accusing looks, and others after thinking about it and other things happening around Harry, nodded in agreement.

"But... even the basilisk?" Nevile asked a little uncertainly, "Surely it can't be _that_ big!"

"It has over a thousand years, Neville," Harry replied, but quickly followed with, "You know how Hagrid always says what misunderstood creatures some species are? Well, it seems to apply to this one. The basilisk isn't that much set on killing of everyone in the school... if not provoked. But other than that? Humans are as insignificant to it as a random day from your life. You know, there are many that you see, but after a while it's all just the same, and then it melts into this giant blur. Over that thousand of years that snake saw everything humans can come up with, and our species doesn't really interest it. Nature. That's what it told me about. The main topic for any animal. Human magic on the other hand, is another topic. Now, I told you about the stone and the note in the chamber. While you were... erm, sleeping, I talked to Slytherin and we don't really know what happened when I took over his memories. It can be that the stone still has all of it, but then he doesn't really know if you could take it too, or in what way, given your look on magic, it would show itself. Then the stone could be empty, which would be useless, or have only some non-important informations, which wouldn't help you at all. So we came up with this," Harry finally said, pushing some scrolls in their direction, but not letting them open, or even touch them just yet.

"Those are closest to Slytherin's private journal as you can ever be. They're more or less the same set of lessons, hints, guidelines, teachings... Whatever you want to call them, that I had been given, of course without the actual man living in your head," Harry said while looking at Luna, which made both of them smile, "But you won't find everything in there, and a lot of topics you'll have to research on your own, maybe even from scratch. But as Salazar was there for me, I can help you with yours," he finished, and immediately, Hermione had a question.

"But what do you mean that there isn't everything in here? I've been studying with you and I know what books you've read, and there aren't some things you say in those too. So either you're lying or you're hiding some materials from us," she finished and looked to him for an answer, only to see him sitting there and smiling at her like she said the funniest thing. "What? What did I say?" Hermione asked, resigning herself to the fact that with him, she simply couldn't get the thing spot on.

"No, nothing. You're right that you know what I've been reading. But I was just marvelling at the difference. Because while you're reading the book, I'm reading a book,"

"I don't get it," Hermione answered after thinking quickly about what he just said.

"You know, when you're reading books, you treat them like they're finished works, whole, complete, with everything one could need till the end of his life. Simply said, to you, every book is The book. The only one. And you're quite right, if you look about the facts that are covered in them. In that sense, let's say, two, three, or even ten history books regarding one period and the same events are nearly the same. If you read one, you can tell history as if you've read any other, since they're all telling you about one period," he said, and Hermione nodded that it was not far from truth.

"Now, what I'm doing with the same books as you've just read through, is that I'm reading A book. It's one of many. Now, while those history books I've mentioned before would need to have exactly the same aspects included - since if it lacks description of one event you would need to read more about that – but let's say for the sake of argument that they have exactly the same dates described, I would still read every single one of those ten. What interests me aren't the facts them-self, but rather how particular people write about them. One person can say that an event was the most important in that time, while another can say that it was least interesting of that kind. Some other can state that it was simply an event, and history wouldn't be much different without it... That's what interests me. You know how people say that victors write the history? But as hard as you wan to, you can never erase what really happened. And even if you're able, there are still clues that the history was tampered with. That's why my focus are people, since I find it so fascinating that facts are one thing, and how people react to the same set of information is quite different story," Harry finished, slightly out of breath at the long monologue.

Hermione was sitting in front of him, chewing her lip in thought at what he just told her, but it was another voice that called for his attention.

"Harry", Rose called, and when he turned, he noticed that she couldn't stand the waiting and unrolled one of the scrolls he gave them to see what's inside, "They're empty," she stated as a fact.

"No, they aren't," Harry responded with a smile.

"But... there's nothing here," she said after once again checking it over.

"Nothing visible," he agreed after looking at the scroll himself, "Yup, your power of observation is serving you rather well," he added with a sly grin.

Seeing that, Rose groaned. "Okay, smart ass, how do you turn it on, activate or whatever you do to it?"

"That's for you to discover," he said matter-of-factly, making Rose glare at him. "Hey, don't kill the messenger," Harry said while raising his hand in gesture of surrender, "Salazar required from me, and surely will from you too, to honour the traditions, or old ways as he call them, and it is a custom for the student to prove his skill before he begins his apprenticeship,"

"Apprenticeship?" Luna asked, already working on her scroll, but picking that particular word from the conversation.

"Well, I was sort of Salazar's apprentice, but since I'm not yet master of the art myself, let's keep it as a study group for now, and work on the old ways later," Harry said while scratching his head, and thinking that a more detailed list of things to do would be helpful.

"Whatever you say, captain," Rose saluted and went on to work.

"Captain works as well," Harry commented at the unoficial title, and got to his own work. Berating his insufferable "imaginary friend" to start with.

* * *

AN. Here it is, straight from the oven. I have 2 weeks of free time now. I'm going to study some, but I will also have the time to write whenever the muse strikes me, so don't be worried if chapters will start coming unannounced. If I won't be posting more than I was until now, then stay assured that I'm at least making some detailed notes for the future.

Ah, right. When I'm writing that Harry's friends were making "good progress" don't imagine that in a chapter or two they'll be at the same level he is. I'm just saying that they're doing well with whatever he tries to teach them at that point.


	53. Chapter 53

If after all this time, you still aren't convinced that I'm not J. K. Rowling, then I don't know how to get through to you.

* * *

Even as wandless magic was the thing Harry's friends thought about almost all the time, they still couldn't forget about the rest of the world altogether. First sign that they were forgetting themselves was that they got news of Moody repeating the Imperius presentation in every class when it was long said and done. They nearly missed the sign saying when Beauxbaton's and Durmstrang's delegations were to arrive.

With classes, homework, their extracurricular studies, and now the wandless training to boot, it was hard to do things in such a way that the rest of the school wouldn't notice small group of friends missing. The oncoming Tournament could be a curse or a blessing for them, but whatever it turned out to be, Harry was already thinking of a way to make their training easier.

* * *

It was a week later when every inhabitant of the castle was called outside to form a greeting party for the guests that were to arrive. Even with all of the teachers watching that everything was in order, Harry and his friends were still able to stand close to one another to be able to talk.

"I think it's time we played a round," Harry voiced.

The game he was referring to was the one he introduced a week earlier, and which his friends knew quite well by now. Rules were simple – to name as many ways to do a certain thing, disregarding the obvious ones. In fact, the more incredulous concept you could defend, the more points you got.

At first, they were getting quite few stares, debating about ways to deal with non-important topics like they were the most important dilemmas in the world. Ways to solve them got their own set of stares. But soon it was took in as another strange Hogwart behaviour, and no one spared a glance after couple of occasions. Yet, it still remained the best way that Harry know to train their wandless magic "in the open". Because, like Slytherin had him think about words, debating problems just another way to deal with possibilities. It also saved their time, as their training sessions were now focused only on checking which of those possibilities worked best.

"So, what is the topic here?" Rose asked, scanning the grounds, already thinking of what she might do.

"How Beauxbatons could be able to arrive in such a way, but without the horses," Harry announced.

After quickly scanning the grounds, his friends stared at him.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione was first to ask.

Harry smiled softly, then shifted his eyes from her to a point somewhere in the sky. His friends turned just when some sixth year student yelled "_There_!", attracting attention of the rest of the school.

"How do you do that?" Hermione asked standing right by his side, still gazing at a dot in the sky that was beginning to grow quickly.

"You get better with practice," Harry responded with a shrug, "Because too many people operate on assumptions bordering with automatic pilot. But if you don't, and you can spot a difference that no one else sees, you can use it to your advantage,"

At his last words, Hermione turned to face him with a mischievous smile.

"Alright. If you're so good at it, then how will Durmstrang come here?" she asked while rising a brow.

Harry frowned shortly, then grinned, and simply pointed the lake with his head. Hermione gazed in that direction, but could not understand what he meant. The lake was flat, if not for the occasional wave... She stopped, and glanced at the waves. They weren't quite normal as she thought at the first sight, and also, the lake wasn't so flat as she had thought. Far away, the lake was indeed flat, but the closer to the castle her gaze came, she could see two creases on the water, almost joining to form a symmetrical V on the surface of the water.

In nature, it was uncommon to find such a sight... But then a book about a supersonic flight came before her eyes. More exactly, a particular passage about how air-plane travelling at high speed left a cone like air disturbance in their wake. If that effect was to be applied to water, then it was easy to guess that there was something moving quickly under the surface of the water.

She came to that conclusion just as a whirlpool begun forming in the place the trace ended, and a mast poked out from under the water. Hermione huffed shortly in annoyance that Harry spotted it at once, and she turned to say something to him, but noticed that the game was going on without her.

"How about a big slingshot?" Rose voiced, remembering one of more ambitious ACME sets, "I mean, just to get you airborne. Once there, you could glide your way through. Even landing isn't such a hard thing to do, a parachute or anything like that,"

"Okay, I think that's good enough," Harry said, and got a nod from Nevill and Luna, "That's a point. Who's next?"

"How about a flying tree?" Neville said, and the rest of the group turned to him to listen about the strange idea. "You know, plants evolve, and if fish can rain from the sky, since the eggs hatch in the clouds, after that strange circular wind passes over the water like Hermione said couple of days ago-"

"It's called tornado, Neville," Hermione reminded from the side,

"Yes, yes, that thing," he continued his explanation, "And if you did it enough times to a plant, it could evolve to drift with the clouds, where it can have water and at least a litte denser footing. Whenever the cloud evaporated for good, it could drift on the breeze, seeking another cloud to settle on. Now, take wood from that tree, cast it on the currents, and you have an aircraft that seeks best winds all by itself," he finished, "Though, I wonder how much such a thing could carry before it crashed," he murmured while scratching his chin.

"Still, that's quite a nice theory. Much better than my dull 'Stick magnets to it so that you can use earth magnetism' story," Harry said, then turning to the girls, "How about 3 points for that?" at which the girls nodded, before the game started all over again.

They entertained themselves, mindless of the chaos invoked by the appearance of students from another schools, or one Quidditch superstar in particular. They haven't even stopped to listen to the announcements concerning the Tournament in which not one of them had any interest in, though the Goblet of Fire started another round of their little game.

* * *

Throughout the next day everyone in the school talked only about the Triwizard Tournament, and after only couple of hours of that, Harry and his friends had enough of that, seeking solace in reading their scrolls that Slytherin gave them, access to which everyone managed to find surprisingly quickly. Though, while his friends were busy with that, Harry stopped his research to wonder about a curious thing. Seeing them all in one place, using their connection with their wandless magic, Harry noticed that they all got the same strange look in their eyes – he probably had it too whenever he was talking with Magie. It wasn't just dreamy, though you could take it as such at the slightly far-away-gaze, looking but not seeing. But it was more than that. It had a strange wisdom to it, because with dreamy, you could pass such a person by, as here you simply had to wonder what exactly that person was seeing or thinking about...

His contemplations about what exactly could it be, since he wouldn't like to be caught like that and not having any cover story to give to the person that asked, thus covering his tracks, filled most of his day, and even in the evening, when the names of the champions were called, he still was a little preoccupied.

He haven't paid any attention to Viktor Krum being called, nor Fleur Delacour that followed his footsteps. Cedric Diggory being picked as Hogwart's champion, or rather uproar that followed, made him spare a glance to ensure that it was all over... But what got his attention fully, was:

"Harry Potter," Headmaster read in what normally could be called a mere whisper, but was quite audible in the silence that followed the fourth parchment shooting out of the Goblet of Fire. No figure stood to follow three previous champions, and as the hold up got longer, everyone started looking around in search of fourth champion.

Everyone, including one Harry James Potter. Seeing his behaviour, his friends went along with it, having spent some time with Harry, and now knowing of the famous mischievous Magie. Twins who sat nearby joined them too, but because they respected Harry, for wherever he went, he brought mischief with him. Truth be told, he could be called their inspiration.

So, a group of friends was still glancing in all directions, even when people focused on Harry as the person being called upon. Seeing everyone staring, Harry stopped for a while.

"Why are you all looking at me?" he said, confusion all over his face, "I am too waiting to know this Potter guy that entered himself in the tournament," and joined his friends who were still scanning the hall in search of the fourth champion.

"Harry Potter, please, do come forth," Dumbledore said again, a little louder to be heard over the murmur that now filled the room.

"Yeah, Potter, hurry up," Harry chorused quickly after, "The nerve of that guy! To do a stunt like this and not show up..." Harry said to the people sitting the closest, starting to get annoyed.

"Harry, if you could stop behaving like that," Albus said looking straight at Harry using a voice fitting for chiding a young child.

"Excuse me, Headmaster, but what do you mean?" Harry stopped his act, turning to talk with the older wizard before him, using his best, polite tone.

"You have just been chosen as a champion in the-" Dumbledore begun, but was interrupted.

"Oh, no I haven't. There must be some kind of mistake," Harry begun, and from the way he was acting, his friends knew that they were going to enjoy this, "For once, you can't possibly tell me that there is only one Harry Potter living on this earth. I mean, I don't want to be responsible for everything another Harry Potter messes up – Such as this misunderstanding right now," he said, but didn't even make a pause that would give Headmaster a while to respond, before he got on another topic.

"But even if I was the one to put my name in the Goblet, you couldn't possibly validate the "binding contract" Mr. Crouch said us before, because to sign such a contract, one have to be of sane mind, and you really have to be quite insane to join this Tournament as it is now – I mean no disrespect to the other champions" Harry said to the gathered crowd, but more to catch a breath than anything else, "I mean, eternal glory? That's just stupid. Who from the people gathered here remembers the name of the last person that won?" he asked, and waited for a second scanning the crowd.

No one raised their hand, Hermione simply to not spoil his show. Seeing that Headmaster was treating this break as an opportunity to interrupt, Harry got back on track.

"Okay, so that's one from the list. A thousand galleon prize?" here he snorted, "What kind of prize is that? During the last time this Tournament was held, that amount was a small fortune, allowing someone to live, while not awfully reach, but comfortably without a day of work till the end of their lives. After all that happened to the world, at this point in time, you would have to propose a prize of six million, six hundred and sixty six thousand galleons to even compare the amount," he calculated quickly, using information that he gained from his discussions with Ragnok.

The hall that got louder and louder as his speech progressed, quieted with every six he mentioned, ending at the state that you could hear a pin drop.

"So, that's for the praizes. And I haven't even started on the challenges. Because it takes seriously disturbed person to sign himself to be beaten, cut, stabbed-"

"Harry-" Albus, tired of waiting, tried to gain control over his student.

"-burnt, bitten, torn-" Harry kept on counting on his fingers.

"Harry, please-" Dumbledore tried a little louder while rubbing his brow.

"-stomped, bruised or anything else that might be prepared, for as much as pocket change for the trouble. And since I'm still sane," there were couple of audible snorts at that statement, "I don't think that it's possible that it's me you're referring to," he at last stopped, and with a pleasant smile, once again concentrated on Headmaster.

The man sighed, and noticing that at last he had his student's attention tried once again.

"Harry, please. May we talk it through in private?" Dumbledore asked somewhat weary of Harry's behaviour.

"Of course, but I wouldn't want for it to take too long. I have still much homework to do" Harry just shrugged and went with the party that gathered to the room where other champions were still waiting.

Like always, Harry's behaviour brought confusion and chaos to the proceedings. Everyone had their own thoughts about the whole thing, but those were easily brought to three basic groups. Some thought that Potter didn't had enough of getting himself into the Tournament, had to boast about it too. Others concentrated on Harry's words, and thought that it really didn't add up. The last group, a very small one consisting of his friends and some more observant students, noticed that Harry was once again stating that he would do everything on his own terms. Nowhere in his speech did he say if he did, or didn't place his name in the Goblet, and he even went with Headmaster not because he was the supposed champion, but because the man invited him for a talk in private...

The group that entered the chamber where champions were waiting was a little bigger than planned, since during Harry's speech a dispute about the rules broke out, consuming pretty much every teacher in the school, and no one wanted to back their words.

Harry, slowly following the large group, and mindless of the confusion among the students, had much time to exchange couple of remarks with Magie.

'Mind not closing the door? I wouldn't want lack of airflow in such a steamy atmosphere,' Harry commented while crossing the doorstep.

Magie, who knew exactly what he meant, blocked the doors from closing. It was a shame that the only thing big enough to hold the heavy door that she possessed was a loudspeaker that she, by pure chance, had with her.

What came next, and quieted the hall for as long as it lasted, was not-so-private conversation among the judges, during which people responsible for organising the Tournament said times and times again that there was no way to say if it was Potter himself that put his name in the Goblet of Fire, and even if, there were no means to get him out of it. During all that, Harry didn't say a word, being content to let others fret over trouble that, at the moment, nothing could be done about.

* * *

AN. Yeah, I know, this isn't my best, but I wanted to write something today, and I've noticed that I really need to get the plot going on again.

About the Galleons. I have enough of people saying "OMG! Galleons are made from gold! They should be worth more than that!" over and over again. Yeah, right, and pounds are worth more than dollars because they're made of finer paper or have more detailed drawings on them...

Even I, with not really much interest in financial world, know that money behave in their own way – Ever heard of inflation? If you have a currency, and it's in the system long enough, the thing that it's made from means nothing. And as for why you can't sell Galleons as pure gold... I don't know. Maybe they're charmed so that they can't be reformed, or any other anti-theft thing, since you gain money from nothing... I don't know, leave it to a goblin to make sure his work is thorough.

Okay, rant done, lets go to:

***OMAKE*** (simply because I didn't know where to put it in the text)

The judges were trying to explain the situation to the three champions already in the chamber, but it was hard to do when you were dealing with a person as temperamental as Fleur Delacour.

"What?" she scoofed at the news, "He? Compete? Look at him, he's just a little boy!" she snapped, and everyone turned to Harry to see his reaction to the accusation.

Harry on the other hand wasn't really interested in responding, as he was too busy with sucking his thumb...

* * *

AN.2. Erm, yeah. Don't expect much "accent dialogues" from me. I can't write them. I haven't done them for Hagrid or Dobby... Fleur or Krum won't get them either. Sorry.

Next chapter (of the usual kind) will be out shortly (I think), and in it: Weighting of the wands.


	54. Chapter 54

Truth be told, is it my problem what you think? I tried times and times again to tell you that I'm not J. K. Rowling, now it's up to you...

* * *

Knowing everything judges said during their meeting didn't help people in Hogwarts to settle their arguments. In fact, knowing that the case was even more complicated than simple trick to get yourself into competition, made some absurd conspiracy theory to appear, regarding the intentions of the Tournament altogether.

Harry was all for that. The more confusion there was, the more he could do without raising additional questions, playing in the grey of already raised ones. But, surprisingly, it was Ron who asked:

"Aren't you bothered with all of this?"

Harry lifted his gaze from the book he was reading to sweep his gaze over the room. Gryffindor common room was practically buzzing with conspicuous talks that were meant to be private. It only showed that even Gryffindors weren't as united as they seemed to be about the whole thing, as they still entertained gossip and doubt that the school was filled with. And as far as the party in his name that they organised, it seemed that him becoming a champion was just a pretext to have one.

"No," he responded shortly, going back to his book.

Noticing that Ron didn't go away, but sat down instead, staying quiet and waiting for a longer answer, Harry closed his book.

"You see, if anyone would like something from me, it stands to reason that they would simply walk right to me and ask for it, like you just did it," he said, and looked at the room again, "But they don't do that, because they don't want to know me. I mean, they may rationalize it that way, that they want to know more, but they don't really want facts. They want gossip, "the juicy parts", the drama, heartaches, mysteries... In short, they want to entertain themself," here he turned to Ron again, "And I don't really mind it, since it doesn't have anything to do with me. It's their little world that they're imagining with me in the centre. I just hope they don't place the blame on me when I won't be how they imagined it," Harry finished with a shrug.

Ron blinked at the response. He himself thought about why he wasn't affected by Harry becoming the additional champion, since he was angry that Cedric shouldn't be one. He was surprised to find that partially, he was expecting that. He knew somewhere deep down that Harry was famous. Not really like Krum, since they saw each other in every class, but still, Harry was "that guy at school who does all those awesome things nobody else can". That type of a cool guy that everyone knows, but nobody really talks to him. Given that, somewhere deep down Ron would actually be surprised if Harry wasn't involved in the tournament in some, even indirect, way.

But now, hearing that response reminded Ron about all those questions that got stuck in the back of his mind over the years. Questions about Harry and all those _normal_ and somehow unfitting him things he did. He shook his head at the reminder of some incidents, and decided to start slow.

"Harry, do you feel like playing some chess?"

* * *

The next day, Harry thought that he wasn't entirely honest while answering Ron. While he didn't mind the stories about him that were circling in the school, sometimes he appreciated them, since they gave him a way to away with something normally considered outrageous, stupid, or plainly insane. Such as...

"Hey, Scarhead" Malfoy said with a sneer while shouldering past with his bodyguards in tow, "Like the campaign we prepared to promote Hogwarts?" at which he puffed his chest, displaying the badge which probably was designed with Dumbledore's dress code in mind, as the words _Support Cedric Diggory – The REAL Hogwarts Champion!_ were written in luminous red letters that hurt the eye even in the broad daylight.

"There's more!" Draco announced proudly while pressing his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one – POTTER STINKS - which glowed green with the same intensity as the one before. "Do you like them?" Malfoy asked with a smirk, as people around them, all wearing similar badges, started to laugh at the joke.

"Oh, I think that promoting _real_ Hogwart's champion is great," Harry responded with a smile, slightly worrying Draco with his calm response, "But I just have to ask, how have you managed to get so vivid colours, I mean- Are you quite alright?" he asked, concerned.

Malfoy wasn't able to respond, since at the very start of Harry's sentence he begun coughing involuntarily, and tears started rolling from his eyes moments later. Similar reaction happened to couple others standing closer than ten feet from Harry.

"What's that stench!" he exclaimed between coughs.

"I think it's coming from that!" someone nearby managed to cough out while pointing at Harry's back, or more likely the thing that was moving right under his robes.

Harry glanced at them all. "I'm sorry, but when you showed me that sign I thought you knew, and that I don't have to hide any more," he said while shrugging his robes off, and revealing a bushy skunk tail.

"Get the hell away from me!" Malfoy, who until this point was doubled to catch a breath, started backing away frantically.

"But I have to explain how this happened," Harry said, but seeing that Draco broke out into a sprint, he begun skipping after him, shouting "Don't run! I just want to talk!" in a voice with a strange, French accent.

They would run all around the courtyard, and whenever Harry and his tail went, more people started to cough and try to run away from him, or more exactly, the stench that even dung-bombs couldn't rival that came with him. Surprisingly, it was only people who wore the badges that were affected, while the rest of the school couldn't stop laughing at the show.

Although, some people didn't have the greatest laugh of their life at what they saw.

"What are you laughing at?" Fleur snapped at a young girl dressed in green and silver Hogwart robes that was standing closest to her. "What is so funny about this?" she demanded while pointing to Harry, who even while skipping, was able to catch up to Malfoy.

"You don't get it?" the girl asked with a smile, but the annoyed huff that she received as a response made her tell all about the Pepe Le Pew - the imaginary romantic that had the misfortune of being born a skunk, which unabled him to find his one true love. That Harry was recreating one of the famous chase scenes came without saying.

"So, you see, it isn't a joke about the French as you probably thought. Harry doesn't do things like that. What he does, is that he takes the jokes that are thrown at him, and twists them so anyone who tried to insult him is the victim of their own ways. He shows them exactly what it would be like if he was the way they tell he is. But he does it in style, showing that he's funnier than they are,"

Hearing what the young girl said made Fleur look at the scene in a new light, and she couldn't help but let her lips curl upwards.

Rose on the other hand shook her head at the French witch, and started wondering how many of Harry's stunts will she have to explain to other people.

* * *

Badges were gone as quickly as they had appeared, but Malfoy proved once again that he knew not what learning from ones mistakes was.

"No wonder she spends so much time with him," he started loud enough for everyone gathered in the corridor to hear, "That stench must be reminding her of home," he finished while looking at Hermione standing right next to Harry.

Everyone caught the reference to what happened earlier that day, even Hermione as her cheeks reddened, but Harry stayed calm.

"Hermione, you ever seen the Bouncing Ferret's Show? I heard they're going to make it a regular event, though details are still unknown," he said with a wink, which got a soft chuckle out of her.

"Shut your trap!" Draco shouted from his spot.

"Or else?" Harry asked with a raised brow, which made Malfoy throw him even more hateful glare. Receiving no response, he shrugged, and turned his back to him, going closer to the dungeons door.

There was a sharp intake of breath from everyone present, and time seemed to freeze. Harry was too aware of the wand pointed at his back, but he didn't call Magie, as she wouldn't be needed for this one. All he needed to do was to make couple of steps more before Snape, whose shuffling steps were ringing through the silence, for the trap to be set...

"NO!"

Harry's plan went to hell with that simple word, and he whipped around just in time to see Hermione who stepped in front of the spell being hit and thrown into his arms.

"And what is all this shouting about?" said Snape opening the door just in the moment that Harry would have been hit by the curse. Instead, he saw Potter holding the know-it-all protectively, while Draco hastily hid his wand.

"Malfoy attacked Hermione, Professor," Harry said calmly, watching Malfoy, and still not letting go of his friend.

Snape stepped closer, took one glance over Harry's shoulder, and with his lip curled, replied "What do you mean? I see no difference,"

That made Hermione push Harry away, and sprint with her head bowed as fast as she could, before her condition was any harder to hide. Harry meanwhile cast one glance at Snape before he started running after her, but stumbled and crashed into Malfoy, head-butting him.

"Potter!" Snape yelled, "What do you think you're doing!"

"I slipped," Harry replied after getting up from the floor on which Malfoy was still lying, moaning quietly, "I was fortunate that Draco was standing there to catch me,"

"Don't give me that," Snape snapped, looking over the student still on the ground, "You've just attacked him, look what you did," he continued, pointing to the blood gathering on the ground, and Malfoy's nose, which by the sight of it, was most likely broken.

"What do you mean? I see no difference," Harry said without even sparing a glance at his fellow student.

Snape grit his teeth, as he only now realised that Potter once again had him sleep in the bed that he made. On his last meeting with the Board of Governors during which it was decided that he could still teach at the school, Lucious said in no uncertain terms that he could no longer deal judgments that could be clearly seen as biased, and had to opperate in the grey of the situation.

So now he could either punish Potter, risking another meeting with the Governors, or leave him be, which would result in the whimp that just lost his conciousness whining to him everyday about his inaction.

Hist musings were disturbed by the footsteps reverberating through the corridor, and he lifted his gaze to notice Potter walking away.

"And were do you think you're going?"

"After Hermione," he said clearly, and not waiting for Snape's response, "Under school regulations it is required that injured student was escorted-" an angry growl and thumping footsteps assured him without turning that he didn't need to say anything more.

Using his knowledge of Hogwarts hidden passageways made Harry arrive at the Hospital wing just as Madam Pomfrey was going to her office, having finished helping Hermione who sat on one of the beds.

"Don't ever do that again!" Harry started, a little harsher that he intended, which was noticeable by Hermione's startled face.

"I don't- I mean, I didn't-" she stammered, trying to respond, but Harry once again took over.

"You didn't think what you wre doing, thats what you did," he said, a little calmer and gentler, "Have a little trust in me, won't you? You think I would be tempting Malfoy with my back for nothing? Come on, Hermione, you know me better than that. If you didn't interfere I would have Snape himself testify that Malfoy attacked a Lord – you remember that small fact about me? I've been reading books on law in magic community, and there are some punishments for that that are quite amusing," he said with a smirk, "Well, at least for the one who deals them," he added with a wolfish smile.

"Like arranging a Bouncing Ferret's Show?" Hermione asked with a timid smile.

"That could have been arranged," Harry replied with a full blown grin, which disappeared when a tense silence filled the room.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said in the end, in a quiet voice and with her head bowed.

Harry sighed audibly at that. "Okay, scolding done, you could at least show them to me," he said with his usual smile.

Hermione's head snapped up immediately upon hearing that, but even as she tried to ask what was he talking about, Harry's expression changed to one clearly stating, "I don't believe you think I wouldn't notice", which strangely, made her grin – the action that Harry wanted to see. He grabbed her chin and started looking at her perfectly straight teeth.

"You know, as much as I like your smile, I wouldn't mind seeing your teeth more often. Those or the ones you had before," Harry commented, and Hermione's grin faltered a little.

At that statement, Hermione noticed just how close Harry's face was to hers, or how his hand felt on her cheeks, or how his eyes-

They both were startled by a sound of a body hitting the floor, and both turned to see Crabbe and Goyle trying to levitate Malfoy's body again, so that they could place him on the bed. Seeing just how Malfoy looked, both of them had to wonder just how many times have he been dropped. At the initial noise Madam Pomfrey came running out of her office to see who just came in, and imediately begun checking her patient over.

Harry and Hermione exchanged an amused glance, end enjoyed another good laugh at Malfoy's expense before they had to go back to class.

* * *

Harry haven't even made it through the doorstep of the class, when he was intercepted by Colin Creevey who said that he was needed upstairs. He just shrugged, turning and once again leaving the dungeon, while Colin explained the situation to Snape who was more than happy being spared looking at Potter for the rest of the class.

When Harry got to the designed classroom, he hadn't even put firmly one foot in the room, when he was assaulted by a woman with her hair set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jewelled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails, painted crimson.

"Ah, Harry Potter, at last we meet. Rita Skeeter from The Daily Prophet," she introduced herself while extending her hand. Strange thing was that she didn't let Harry's hand once they shook. "Seeing as we still have some time, I was wondering if you would like to answer some-"

"No," Harry cut her shortly seeing where the things were heading.

"Oh, don't be like that," she started again, "Surely you would like to say couple of things to your fans-" she was trying, but again being cut off.

"Non," Harry said, and seeing Rita open her mouth, "Nein," she looked slightly confused, but when she again tried to ask a question, "Nyet. Ne. Nem. Nei. Iie," Harry said, then shook his head, ending with waving his hand as a way of declining.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Cedric, who saw the entire exchange, came closer to the two.

"Oh, hey Cedric. I was once told that reporters don't understand the word 'No'," he stated, and at that statement, a soft laugher could be heard. Harry glanced aside and noticed Fluer covering her mouth with her hand as she was watching the scene. She wasn't the only one, as everyone else in the room was watching the exchange.

Harry looked at Skeeter again. "So far she proves that that statement is true," he told Cedric while glancing at his hand which the woman was still holding, unconsciously tugging at it.

Rita noticed this, and immediately let go, loosing for a second her sweet and innocent composure, but when the rest of the judges entered the room a second later, she was all back to her lovely self.

"Ah, we're all here. Good, good, " Dumbledore remarked while entering the room, "Why don't we proceed so that our guest can return to his business," he said while Mr. Olivander stepped inside after the judges, and the doors were closed.

Weighting of the wands went quite quickly. The champion that was called simply handed their wand to Olivander, who would inspect it carefully and do a simple spell with it. Three champions were done in no time at all, but when Harry handed his wand, there was a slight pause, as Olivanders brow wrinkled, and he stared at the wand for quite a while.

"Is there something wrong, Mr. Olivander?" Mr. Crouch asked from the judges table.

"Oh, no, it's nothing," Olivander responded, his concentration broken, "I was just thinking of this particular wand – quite a tricky problem to combine the components. I would have to say that it's one of my best. Yet, Mr. Potter here managed to keep it in such a fine condition," he said with a smile, then added, looking straight at Harry with more serious expression. "I could even tell that this wand is just like it had been taken from my shelf,"

Harry didn't quite understand what Olivander was saying, but he knew that it was really important.

"It has been noted that the wand is in fine condition, can we continue?" Mr. Crouch said from his seat, mindless about the silent exchange.

"Yes, of course," Olivander muttered before performing a simple spell with Harry's wand and announcing that it was perfectly suitable for a competition of this kind.

The meeting was said to be over, and after a quick photo session that Rita demanded on, they were free to go. But when Harry was about to leave the room, he was stopped by a soft voice.

"Mr. Potter, could I have a quick word?" Olivander said, still standing in the middle of the room.

"Sure," Harry said with a shrug, but mentally preparing himself for anything.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said, stopping at the doorstep, "When you're done in here, please, come to my office. There are some things regarding your participation in the tournament that we still have to discuss. If anything stops you, just stay assured that I love Sherbet Lemons," Albus said with a smile before leaving the room.

Harry wondered at the strange goodbye, but since it was Dumbledore- His musings were stopped by a snap of someone fingers, after which the only thing that Harry could think of was how the world became _less_. It was a strange feeling, comparable to the sensation when you still have water in your ears after a bath, but not confined to hearing.

"Now no one will interrupt us, Mr. Potter," Olivander said from his spot, "So, please, don't be afraid to tell me exactly how does it feel to use wandless magic,"

Harry stiffened, Magie at once appearing at his side, but the noticed how the man was just standing there, relaxed, and how he didn't ask but simply stated matter-of-factly. Harry looked the man in the eye, and then noticed something else. The man's strange gaze, just like...

"You can do it too?" Harry replied with a question, at which Olivander only smiled.

"I wouldn't go as far, Mr. Potter," he replied in a low voice.

"Then how did you know?" Harry demanded, at which Mr. Olivander smiled a little more, and showed his wand to him.

"There is a lot one can learn about a wizard, simply by examining his wand," the wandmaker said, his voice gaining a mysterious tone, "Here, take it and tell me what you feel," he said while giving Harry his wand back.

Harry took the wand, looked at the simple design, felt the smooth wood under his fingers, and didn't know what the man was talking about. That changed when Magie, feeling his needs, placed her hand over his. Previously smooth surface changed, creases sprouting in a strange pattern. It wasn't like Braille alphabet, but still, they seemed to form...

"A signature," Harry mumbled, and opened his eyes, not even remembering when he had closed them.

"Very good," Olivander nodded in agreement, "But that's just my signature. Usually, you can read not only who made the wand, but also who used it the longest, and what kind of spells did that person prefer. That's why it's so important to suit a person with a proper wand, because the wand knows and remembers, and one cannot use other's wand because the past is always there," he said with his eyes cast off in the distance, but then concentrated on Harry again, "But not with your wand, Mr. Potter. And how can you explain that a student in his fourth year haven't cast a single spell with his wand?" the man asked, and that reminded Harry of the time he met Ragnok, and the confusion his wand brought to the goblins.

"You already said it-"

"Indeed I did," Mr. Olivander commented without interrupting.

"-But you didn't explain how you can use a wand and cast wandlessly at the same time," Harry responded with a statement of his own.

"And why do you keep repeating that I can?" the wand maker asked, clearly interested about the response.

"You have the sight," Harry said, not knowing how to explain it any better.

"I don't quite understand," Olivander said, his brow wrinkled.

"You know," Harry replied, making the wandmaker concentrate on his eyes and when he did, Harry made Magie go away, revealing the slight difference, "the sight,"

"Ah, yes, now I see," the man muttered, only now realising the fact, "But I assure you, that I'm not capable of the things you surely can," he said with a smile, continuing withouth a break, "My hands are but my tools, Mr. Potter. How to make wands is not a closely kept secret because of the profit one can make, but because of the fact that it's the last detailed form of wandless magic that I know of," Olivander announced, making Harry's eyes grow big at the statement.

"First wandmakers quickly discovered that a wand cannot create a wand. It set hierarchy among them – made them behave in strange ways when close to each-other. It's magic beyond anyones understanding, so wandmakers, in the eye of great demand for wands, simply did what they knew best, rather than experiment with their products. Now all we know is that tools are not meant to build tools – only life can bring life. That's why a wandmaker has to work with his hands, breathing the spark of life to the wand by his work, and even as we try to learn, even we, the wandmakers, cannot do much outside of our field," Olivander stopped his sorowful tale, and turned to Harry once again.

"That's the sad truth, Mr. Potter. I'm only a true magician in the confines of my own shop. Everywhere else, I'm limited by my upbringing, and limitations that it cast upon me. I've lived long, long time, and no matter how I try, I cannot learn more of true magic than that in which I was trained. I dreamed of someone to bring back the old ways... And here you are," he finished with a smile.

"Old ways," Harry, to remain free of the shock that Olivander threw at him, grasped something he knew already, "I hear it all the time. When have you heard it and what does it exactly mean?"

"Oh, I can lend you the journals of my great-grandfather. They have quite a few chapters detailing how the world looked like with people like you roaming the world,"

"Haven't you lost couple of 'great' in there?" Harry asked after a quick calculation, "I mean wasn't it approximately some thousand- well, at least eight-hundred years ago?"

The question made Olivander smile. "You will notice that not even developing the gift fully, we manage to live quite a lot longer than even the average wizard. Why, I myself have only hundred and forty three years of age,"

Harry sat down to not fall, as he was staring at the man older than even Dumbledore, but not yet looking older than seventy. He thought about the idea of wandless magicians living longer, or at least healthier, but only now did he understand the scale of things.

* * *

AN. Whoah! What the hell was that! I had some more points that I wanted to be in this chapter, but I've noticed that I've writing for the last five hours or so, and I haven't eaten anything all day... Not saying that my eyes begin to hurt.

Seeing as this is a good place to stop, I'm just going to say that you should expect another chapter shortly. Also, since the forum wasn't used at all, it got deleted


	55. Chapter 55

Okay, it might seem that I don't care at all, but trust me, I do. But you must first accept the fact that I'm not J. K. Rowling for this thing to work... Don't worry. I have faith in you, and I'll wait... for a while.

* * *

Harry haven't expected a surprise like that appearing out of nowhere, and if allowed to, he would have spent entire day, if not couple of them, to talk with Olivander. But as it was, he had to keep up appearances, and with a quick word to the wand maker that he will visit the shop as soon as possible, he hurried for his meeting with Dumbledore.

He haven't even thought long about the fact that he didn't knew the way, because a quick word with a ghost solved that problem, and paintings were great help too, whenever he wanted to make sure he was going the shortest way. Even the gargoyle wasn't much of an obstacle, because in the second he stopped in front of the statue, Dumbledore's words detailing exactly that kind of a situation came to the front of his memory.

But when he finally made it to the top of the stairs, he met first thing that wasn't exactly in accordance with the plan. When he knocked on the door to Headmaster's office, there was no answer. He tried again, but with similar result. After the third try, he simply grabbed the handle and found the doors unlocked, but nobody inside.

It seemed that Headmaster had other business' to attend to, before he was able to come back to his tower – or maybe Harry took so long that Dumbledore couldn't wait any longer. Whatever it was, Harry decided to wait, even if for a short while, as it was the very first time he had ever been in the Headmaster's office.

Strangely, he wasn't overly mystified by the room. The décor was perfectly suiting Dumbledore – from strange colours to weird trinkets standing here and there. The multitude of paintings of previous headmasters and headmistresses hanging all around the room didn't interest him at all, as it was their duty to serve the current one with their advice. Harry did stop to appreciate the sight of a phoenix, since even as it was well known that Dumbledore had such a familiar, Harry haven't seen one – he noted for future use that this particular one liked to be scratched in the exact same place as Hedwig.

Harry couldn't guess why from all those magical artefacts that the room contained, he stopped in front of a very old, battered hat.

"Hello, Hat," Harry said after a while of simply looking at it.

The Sorting Hat made a big show out of waking itself up, like it always did during the sorting feast. Harry smiled, because for a long time now, he thought that the hat never really slept, being suspended like the paintings, only waiting for it's owner's call.

The hat at last opened it's eyes, scanned the room, then concentrated on the human standing in front of it.

"Ah, young Potter. What would you like from an old cloth like me?" the hat asked, a little gruffly, not being used to being woken up so abruptly.

Harry blinked. "You remember me?"

"Why, of course I do," the hat responded as it was the most obvious thing, "I don't suppose you ever forget the hard choices you had to do in your life,"

Harry blinked again. 'There goes the theory about it being merely another form of a painting,' he thought, and then "Do you want to check again? You know, to make sure you did the right thing?"

"I don't really need to, but being on your head would allow us to speak, and me go back to sleep at the same time," the hat replied, even as Harry was already placing it on his head.

'Now, that's strange,' he heard hat's voice a moment ago, 'There is something new that wasn't in here before, and it's familiar too,' the voice said as the hat was shuffling through his mind-scape, 'I know it from somewhere, but it can't be, because if it is, it would have to be-'

'Me?' a new voice asked, and Harry looked as Slytherin appeared out of nowhere, standing there with his best smirk.

'Master!' the hat exclaimed in joyous surprise.

'Seharol, how many times do I have to repeat that you should stop calling me that?' Salazar scolded with a scowl.

'I'm sorry Master,' the hat replied in a submissive voice, 'That's just the way I am, and I can't do anything about it,'

'Seharol?' Harry asked, interrupting the conversation that was being conducted in his head.

'That's the name he gave himself, Seharol Gryffindor. Scrambled syllables of our first names and Godric's last name as to state the closest family it's related to,' Slytherin explained calmly, but the hat wasn't able to contain it's emotions.

'But you're back, Master!' it continued with the same energy and excitement as before, 'It means that it worked!'

'Yes, it worked, and young Potter here is doing nicely with his studies, not saying that he has started teaching others, as well,' Salazar said with a true smile.

During his last statement, Magie at last showed up to check what all the commotion was about, but just as she appeared, the phoenix that was watching Harry converse with the hat gave a squawk of surprise at the event. Harry looked strangely between Magie and the phoenix, the turned once again to Slytherin.

'Why haven't it reacted like that when you showed up?' he asked confused at the fact, while Magie went to introduce herself and pet the startled animal.

'I think I told you once already, that hallucinating is not form of magic,' Salazar replied, his smirk back in place, 'While I may seem like one of your friends that life in that Town of yours, I am not. I'm simply another personality that you keep aside, and while, in theory, you could allow me some powers, you would never be able to call me to your side as you please, something you are able to do with them, since I could always disagree or dispute with you,' he explained, then turned to watch the girl playing with the mythical bird.

'She, on the other hand, is quite different, and not only from me, but also from the other ones. While you can lend the powers to them, the ones that yet do not have a purpose, would appear just like me – a mere mirage – while those with one will simply do what they were called for before disappearing. But whenever she arrives, she gathers energy around her, readies herself for anything and everything you might require. I don't think that the phoenix sees the form – maybe, at most, the disturbance in the magic, but it was enough to startle it,'

Harry thought about the facts and reasoning presented, which gave the hat the opportunity to voice it's thought's again.

'He is doing well, indeed,' Sorting Hat commented, for a while seeing the world through Harry's eyes, 'So, it is the time at last?'

'Like I said, I am a mere shadow of my former self – I decide nothing,' Slytherin replied, 'But seeing my student's actions, and what is happening, I would have to say that it won't be long before you see at least a glimpse of the old world,'

Seharol seemed to deliberate that statement quietly for a while, but then got a determined look on his face while announcing 'Let then another old friend help with the deed,' at which something heavy hit Harry on the head. He yelped in pain at the sudden blow, and ducked his head, making the hat fall an clatter on the floor.

'Clatter?' Harry thought in surprise, while massaging his hurting head. He looked at the hat laying on the round, and noticed something made of steel sticking out of it. He bent down, picked the item, grabbing the hat in the other hand, and froze.

'Ah, Godric's sword. How... appropriate,' Slytherin said with a grin.

But Harry wasn't paying attention to the words. He was more interested with the buzz that holding the sword gave him – the power that went from the sword throughout his entire body.

'I still remember how good it feels to hold that blade,' Salazar continued, 'Do you feel it?' he asked, already knowing the answer from Harry's baffled expression.

The raven-haired boy couldn't formulate words. He simply nodded, and shifted his gaze from the blade to Magie, who seemed to practically glow with power. She stood there, her eyes closed, a slight light emanating from her body. She was taking deep, measured breaths as if meditating, being content to simply bask in the goodness that she felt.

'I saw goblin blades before,' Harry said, finally getting over the shock, 'even held some of them, but it was never like this,'

'Ah, yes. Goblin steel indeed has some of the most amazing capabilities - taking in only what straightens it being one such thing,' Slytherin replied with a nod, 'But Godric was no slack when it came to enchanting, and what you see, or rather, feel now, is a result of a skilled wizards adding his own spells to the mix,' he said in a way that stated clearly that he was about to share another tale from the past.

'In times when wand's were more and more popular during duels that proved the skill of particular wizard, and old timer like Godric had to deal with it - and he thought of this. Anyone who the sword accepted after he improved it, could tell that the sword felt powerful in their hands-'

'But why would a wizard need a sword in the first place?' Harry couldn't help but ask.

'Normally, they wouldn't, but Godric wasn't only a wizard. He was a son of a nobleman, a Lord to his people, and a commander whenever he had to be. He was never one to stay behind, and you could always see him at the very front line, leading his soldiers. Of course, some of the plans he made while thinking on his feet could be quite insane, but that's why he cherished courage - because with good men at his side, he never knew defeat,' Slytherin said with a smile, remembering the days from the past, before he caught himself.

'Now, usually a wizard fighting against the usual platoon of soldiers was not a big problem, even when they had an enchanted armour - a thing wizards busied themselves with in times of peace – which could be quite a problem for normal soldiers. But that was only when standing face to face. On a vast battlefield, when you need to be in constant movement, there was not much time to gather the energy needed to cast grand spells, so he had to resign himself to a sword as means of defence and attack. And that's why the sword was even more important, but you would know why already, if not for interrupting me,' Slytherin scolded him shortly, before continuing his explanation.

'You see, power anyone holding the sword was talking about was nothing compared to what you're feeling, because only a wizard capable of casting wandlessly was able to appreciate fully it's usefulness. That's why sword accepting you was so important, because with that, the sword was no different than a magical lightning rod. It not only pulls any energy nearby to you, but even more than that. Spells that you parry with it, or if you would pierce wards in your path – the sword shrugs the intent off of them, and changes them to pure energy which you can use instantly, or store temporarily in the rubies that serve as warding stones. That's why Gryffindor was so scary. That sword made him even more powerful, but more importantly than that, instantly ready for any kind of battle,'

Harry was so immersed in the story, that he forgot where he was, and didn't knew what to say when the doors to Headmaster's office opened, and Dumbledore with judges and other people appeared on the treshhold, seeing him stand there with Gryffindor's sword in one hand and Sorting Hat in the other.

"Now, that's a sight I never thought I would see," Albus muttered while stopping in the doorstep, people gazing over his shoulder. He quickly made his way across the room, stopping right next to Harry, examining the blade.

"May I?" he asked, and Harry simply handed the blade over.

The second the blade left his hand, the buzz ended and Magie lost her glow with a sigh, returning to her normal self. She opened her eyes, only now noticing the crowd gathered in the room, and as not to add confusion to the situation, disappeared into thin air right after Slytherin did.

"My, my, my" Albus kept muttering while taking all of the blades features in, "A Founder's relic found after centuries – such a prize," he said louder, and begun looking around his office, "Now, where would be the most suitable place..." he said out loud, but more to himself that to anybody else.

Harry frowned at Headmaster's strange behaviour, before he caught on of what the man was thinking, and blinked at the absurdity of that thought.

"Headmaster, are you going to hang Gryffindor's sword on a wall?" he asked as to make sure he was correct in his assumption.

"I was thinking of a display case suitable for such a rare item, but, yes," Dumbledore responded, not disturbing himself from searching the most suitable wall for such an honour.

"I don't want to be rude, but you can't do that," Harry said, while shaking his head.

"OH, shut up already!" Snape exclaimed, Harry only now noticing that he was in the room. On second thought, he just now noticed just how many people had entered the room, because it seemed that beside all the judges, also half of the Hogwart's staff came in for some sort of a special meeting.

"Who are you to tell the Headmaster of Hogwarts what he should or shouldn't do with Founder's relics?" the Potion Master continued in the same offensive tone, taking advantage of one occasion when he was sure he was right an Potter was wrong.

"Well, I don't think I can," Harry replied, at which Snape did his best winning-sneer, "but..." Harry uttered, but not knowing what to say next, simply raised the Sorting Hat to his eye level.

"Dumbledore, you old fossil!" the Hat snapped, it's harsh tone back in full force.

Hearing the words, Snape lost his sneer faster than should be possible, and replaced it with a face expressing total shock, suiting the ones everyone in the room had while hearing the statement. But Seharol Gryffindor was hardly done.

"I gave the sword to Potter for a reason, and even if it would fulfil it's purpose, it's me you have to talk to when it comes to what's to be done with Founder's relics. I keep repeating that I hold their combined traits, but it seems that hardly anyone listens! So, I'll make a deal with you. You either give that sword back, or if you want to treat the Founder's will as a joke, then put me in a display case next to it, as another reminder of the past, and sort your children on your own!" the hat finished, and frozen again, but not in it's usual contemplative pose, but with the funniest face it could manage to hold.

Hearing the hat berate supposedly most powerful wizard in the magical community, and hearing the joy in it's voice while it spoken with Salazar, Harry didn't dispute the fact that it felt strongly about the Founders. More than that. Now he understood how the basilisk could snap so quickly at the mere word of someone spoiling Slytherin's work.

Everyone in the room, even Albus Dumbledore himself, were left speechless at the tirade, and looking at the hat's deformed expression, Headmaster didn't even say a word, simply handing the sword back.

"Thank you," Harry said while accepting the blade, after which he placed the Hat on it's proper place. Sorting Hat winked at him, and then begun to slumber again in it's normal form

"There was something you wanted to speak with me about, Headmaster," Harry said, while stepping away from the shelves and making his way in front of the desk.

"Why, yes," Albus responded with a gentle smile, not really disturbed by what happened moments ago, which raised a few brows, "Since you are the youngest contestant in this tournament, not having as much experience as the others, we thought it proper to allow you an advisor," he said, getting straight to business, "We have decided that Professor Moody would be best for you,"

Harry glanced at the grizzled ex-auror, thought about it for a while, and replied:

"Why, thank you professor," he said with a bow to the man, "but I would like Professor Snape as my advisor," that hushed the room completely, and shocked the man in question the most.

"While it's your decision, may I inquire why you picked Severus?" Albus asked calmly, disturbing people again that he was not reacting to the words that were exchanged. Some even were wondering if they were participating in the same conversation as he was.

"Well, with Professor Moody now being the Head of Slytherin, I don't think he will have that much time to help me with my preparations, so I picked the second best option. With Professor Snape being a Potions Master, it would help me greatly, since I'm certainly lacking in that field. And since it is well known that he's trying to become the Defence Against the Dark Art's teacher, it shows that he also holds a great knowledge of spells, so it wouldn't be much different than with Professor Moody," Harry summed up.

"Oh, yes, I see that you've really thought about it," Dumbledore said, pleased with the explanation, "Now only a formality. Severus, do you agree?"

Everyone turned to the man in question, who, since Potter begun speaking, was turning more and more red from the anger, clenching his fists frantically at the blatant lies the brat was spewing. The fiend was lying in the eye, and only he could see it. But now, with everyone staring at him, and especially Potter with this innocent, full of adoration eyes of his, staring at him like a lamb... Something in him broke in that instance, and he decided that he couldn't take it any longer...

Everyone's eyes widened, as the man snorted with laughter once, then second time, even as tears started rolling from his eyes. He dropped to the floor and begun beating with his hands at the floor, howling in a mad laughter even as he was crying his eyes out.

"Oh, my," everyone, suspended in dumbfound state because of the constant shock coming to their system, turned to Dumbledore who just spoke, "He can't contain how happy he is at the news," he commented with a gigantic smile on his face.

In the meantime, Harry made his way to his new advisor, and patting him on the back, kept muttering, "Don't worry Professor, we can take care of your troubles too,".

Snape only cried harder.

People present were gazing at the strange sigh, throwing glances at Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, smiling like he just got the best Christmas gift one cane imagine, and they failed to even begin to formulate the words needed to describe what was happening. Only one voice interrupted Snapes tormented howls.

"Do you really think Potter needs advisor for anything?" Moody asked through a wheezing chuckle, clearly enjoying the show.

The rest of the crowd just shook their head, not knowing if saying anything else was wise thing to do.

* * *

The next day, when The Daily Prophet was distributed during the morning feast, it seemed as if the reporters them-self didn't know what was more important, as they split the front page to include two stories at once. The first headline screamed:

**The Triwizard Tournament Sabotaged From Day One**

A cute little story how a young kid was too smart for his own good, and involved himself in the affairs of adults. Harry didn't pay that much attention to this one, since it was clear that if Rita Skeeter couldn't get news, she made news. Maybe it was because of her demanding her story was first page material that it was even there, because the second story was so much more sensational.

**Sentence: Not Guilty**

**Trials of Wizards Caught During World Cup Extremely Quick**

Right after reading that one, Harry glanced across the breakfast tables, and noticed Malfoy's smug attitude, probably bragging to his friends how justice was served. But whenever he thought nobody was looking, he would slump, even so slightly, under the pressure of all the glares coming his way from all directions.

It was hardly different in the rest of the magical community, Harry thought. He had no idea how Malfoy managed to get himself out of jail for the second time – or rather, how much gold he said goodbye to, to manage it so smoothly. But average wizards were no longer buying it.

In fact, at one time, Malfoy Sr. might have settled his position before the chaos of the war settled down, but now, with old wounds being opened again, the ferocity of the crowd on the night of the match – Harry didn't predict the sweetest life for that family. With Crabbe and Goyle always serving as grunts, Malfoy wouldn't be seen as just a Death Eater. He would serve the role of The Death Eater – the poster boy, the face you think about whenever the term was uttered.

Harry glanced at Draco one more time, and from the Slytherin's body language it was sure, that Harry's thoughts weren't far from the truth.

* * *

During the next weekend, Harry resigned from his right to go to the Hogsmade, but for the first time used his status as a legal adult and as such be allowed to go anywhere he pleases in his free time, to visit Diagon Alley. Even as he didn't state his business to Headmaster when he asked about it, knowing that he don't have to, he had to do something of grave importance – and as soon as possible.

* * *

The goblin standing in front of the Gringott's doors was on guard immediately upon noticing a human with a sheathed sword, making his way up the stairs. The man did not make one step further than the last step, and presenting the sheathed sword, muttered only two words:

"Goblin steel,"

He didn't need to say anything else, as goblin's assumption was proven right, and upon hearing the words, he clapped his fingers, making a low sound of the gong to reverberate throughout the lobby of the bank. Then happened something that haven't happened for a long, long time. Every customer was asked to step outside, with clerks forming a line on both sides of the entrance.

Many of the younger goblins would say this to be wasteful, if they wouldn't be afraid of disrespecting an old tradition. In fact, it was because it wasn't used so often, that the rules of conduct haven't changed throughout the centuries, and if it was just a casual service offered by the bank, it would take much different form as the time progressed.

But as it was, when the line of goblins formed, the human at the door was let inside, and once again, stopped in the middle of the hall, not making one step more than needed. From the other side of the room, Ragnok, as the oldest and the most respected in Gringotts, could be seen walking, his walking stick hitting the stone floor being the only sound that filled the room. He stopped in the middle, some distance in front of the man.

"State your business," Ragnok said the formula that accompanied any transaction inside the bank walls, but hearing it from him, in this situation, it gave the words a greater meaning.

"I've came to clear a misunderstanding, that a great treasure had not been stolen, but lost throughout the ages, as only recently it had been presented to me by the Sorting Hat, as means to help me achieve my goals," Harry stated, before kneeling on one knee, and after slowly unsheathing the sword, presenting it on extended hands, "I give to you, the sword that belonged to Godric Gryffindor," he announced, before bowing his head.

The position he was in wasn't of apology, or asking for forgiveness for the deeds that were done. It was merely a display of humility in front of the creator of such a fine item and respect for their skills.

Ragnok took the blade, inspected in thoroughly, running his hands across the blade couple of times. After he was done, he picked the sheath that was lying on the ground, and again placed the sword in it.

"Indeed, it is true that this is the blade," he announced, at which a quiet mutter had run through the hall, and one young goblin stepped closer to him carrying a big scroll, "Ancestry lines are of no importance here," Ragnok waved the goblin off, which silenced the hall again.

"I know young Potter, and without a doubt he is saying the truth," at these words, Harry stood up again, "As of why he is not needed to be an ancestor to carry the blade, that is because Sorting Hat, by the ancient laws being seen as a steward of Founders properties and riches whenever their heirs are not present, voiced that this man should carry this blade. If anyone does not agree with my assessment, let his voice be know, upon which Sorting Hat shall be called to repeat it's judgement, and Harry James Potter's worth shall be tested," not one of the goblins present said a word.

With a nod, Ragnok announced "As such, I deem him worthy of carrying goblin steel," and bowed as much as his old bones allowed, presenting the sheathed sword back to Harry.

Harry bowed shortly while accepting the sword, to finish the traditional salute of an artisan to a person worthy, and able, to carry his masterpiece.

When Ragnok was standing straight again, all the goblins around them bowed shortly, finishing the ceremony, before returning to their posts and their work.

"Now, that was quite an exercise," Ragnok said while whipping the sweat from his forehead, "But I thank you for that – for letting the young ones see that there are still honourable humans in this world," he added with a smile, and before Harry could even say a word, he continued, "As a matter of fact, I know exactly what would go with that sword quite nicely," he said while snapping his fingers,

Immediately, a goblin came running with a bundle, and upon reaching the two, presented Harry with a suit of armour. It didn't look like steel, being flimsier than that, but not a dragon-skin either, as it looked even more durable than that.

"Finest suit of amour, made for your ancestor by one of my own," Ragnok said with a short bow, to which Harry at once responded with one of his own. A mere formality in the face of the previous ceremony.

"I don't know what to say," Harry mumbled while accepting the bundle, but still feeling like this one was already prearranged.

"You need to say nothing," Ragnok said with a smile, then frowned, "In fact, now that you have been officially accepted as a friend to the goblins, we need to prepare a list of every goblin made item that was prepared for your family throughout the ages,"

Harry's eyes bulged at the news, "You mean, there's more?"

"Oh, you just wouldn't believe how many vaults we have to maintain that store only items that are waiting to be claimed – by someone worthy of course," Ragnok said, while slowly walking back to his office, "It would be so much easier if we could sell them after a whole millennium, rather than wait for that line to die out," he finished with a sigh.

* * *

AN. "You think I overdid it in the scene with Snape?" asks while scratching his chin, "Nah," shakes his head and walks away while munching on an apple.

But seriously, it's been something like 20k words over the last, what, 10 days? I like it when the work is going smoothly, but come on! My head is killing me right now...


	56. Chapter 56

I think there's a merit in everything. Like, if I owned Harry Potter, you probably wouldn't be reading this story right now.

* * *

With all the things Harry had to do, time passed far faster than he would like. That's why, on the day before the first task, he decided to give himself a one day holiday. In fact, he wasn't the only one, as the rest of the champions also thought that skipping one day of class wasn't such a loss – especially as they were free from the end year exams – and some last minute study could be all the difference. You could hardly catch a glimpse of the champions, but if there was a person beside Harry's friends that would be watchful enough, maybe it would be noticed that nobody had seen him all day long – because using the excitement and commotion, he was able to do something he hadn't done in a long time.

"It's getting late. I should be going," Harry said, noticing that entire day passed without him realising it, and slowly started to get up from his resting place.

"**Such strange distinction of time you and yours have, young one – to say that something ends when it barely just begun. When will your kind understand that timing is accomplished by waiting, I wonder... Instead, you hurry after what had long passed – believing it to be still in your reach,**" the ancient basilisk said with a sigh, "**Remember it well, young heir – hurry lays waste, and nothing more, for it is far better to stay hungry one moment longer, than to be someone else's dinner,**" it said, just as Harry's feet touched the stone floor after he jumped from it's back.

He once again had to marvel how basic – primal even – teachings of life, that every animal knew by instinct, could be the ones that humans search for all their life, and are the most profound when you hear it in just the right moment.

"**But I must thank you,**" it continued, "**for that snake you sent here some time ago spread the word, and once again, younglings come, and like in the past, they speak of the world...**" here, the snake stopped, as if not knowing if it should say more, but in the end, "**Be ready, young one, for I feel a storm coming, and it's not one I know from the past. It is not a natures doing, and it does not bear the mark of a man. It's not something known, simply... **_**other**_**,**" the basilisk stressed the word, as if wondering about the wording – like it brought some memories from the past, "**No matter what it is, it's bound to bring change,**" it finished after a slight pause.

That word on the other hand, reminded Harry of entirely another thing.

"As to not finish our meeting on that ominous note, may I entertain you?" he asked with a smile, turning his back on the snake, as not to look it in the eye.

Having entire chamber in front of him, he started to jog, then run, and when he changed the pace to a full out sprint, he imagined a certain coat falling on his shoulders – at which point he beat his wings to gain some height. He didn't have that much experience in using his form, that's why he didn't risk anything more than couple of basic acrobatic figures, before gliding between the columns and landing for safety on the head of the enormous snake.

"**What a joy,**" the basilisk said with a snake laugh when Harry was done with his show, "**To see one of my kind able of flight – not saying that after all this time I didn't think anything could still surprise me. Such a prize – pure joy indeed,**" the snake sighed in contentment, but then got an idea, "**This act is truly worthy of something in return. But as to not spoil the challenge, and see if you remember my stories well, I will just say that in the nearest future, you may encounter some of our hot-tempered cousins,**"

Harry thought about the words, caught the meaning, and started wondering if snakes ever told jokes among themselves.

* * *

The next day, it seemed that the excitement radiating off of people was about to blow up the castle, and as such, Harry wasn't keen on eating breakfast in the Great Hall, with people shouting their good-lucks at him, like they did in the halls throughout the past week. It would be too noisy for him even under normal circumstances, but now especially, since he had to concentrate on what he, Magie and Salazar discussed would be best thing to do. So, after leaving a short note for Neville that he will be in their usual picnic spot, he grabbed couple of toasts from the kitchens, and went outside to think and relax.

It didn't go as planned, because not long after he sat down, closing his eyes to listen to soft background noises of one of the sunnier days, a shadow came over him.

"Hey! You're blocking my sun!" he snapped without opening his eyes, disregarding the fact that he was supposedly suntanning while fully clothed. A soft giggle that followed made him crack one eye open, and he noticed a young girl standing not far away from him – though in such as spot that the sun was directly behind her head, thus, making it really difficult for him to see who exactly was it. "Something I can do for you?"

"For me, no. But my sister will kick your butt, and that will be fun even without you helping," the young girl said with a mean face, which made him smile and think that he might actually enjoy this conversation.

"Then let your sister know that she has to schedule it. My butt is very popular, it seems, and everyone around want to kick it all the time... Actually, I think I'm going to start selling tickets for the event," Harry said while scratching his chin, which started another giggle from the girl.

"You're strange," she said with her head tilted to the side.

"You're stranger," Harry responded while mimicking her actions, but then a startled expression appeared on his face, "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers...What should I do now!" which made the girl grin.

* * *

Fleur didn't have as calm morning as she would like to have. Not long after waking up she noticed her sister was nowhere to be seen. At first, she thought that maybe her sister had gone on a walk around the grounds, or anything like that. But as the time progressed, she couldn't keep the thought that something happened to her from from her mind. She begun checking every place that her sister already knew, but when her ideas dwindled to nothing, she hurried back to the carriage to inform the Headmistress that Gabrielle was missing.

But something stopped her on her way back – a sight of blond hair, that only one other person aside from her could have, dancing on the wind. She quickly hurried in that direction, relief filling her when she recognised Gabrielle sitting casually near the lake. In that moment, her concern changed to irritation, and she was preparing to snap at her little sister for making her worry. That didn't happen, as when she got closer, she noticed another person sitting nearby, and she stopped abruptly seeing who it was. From her spot, she could hear a conversation going on.

"But why would anyone still travel by train?" Gabrielle asked, "It's stupid. Hours of boring travel, when you could be there in one moment with a port-key,"

"Well, it's a tradition, so you won't see much sense at the first glance," Harry replied, explaining another thing about Hogwarts – something he was doing for some time now, "Once, wizards didn't have such ways of travelling as a port-key, and they had to resign themselves to mundane ways of travel, since brooms weren't really that comfortable for long journey – especially that they weren't to fast either. In those times, from all around the country, hundreds of carriages made their trip to the castle, picking young students along the way. While travelling they had the time to know one another, or older students tell younger ones what should they expect. You know, it's the kind of situation when the journey was as important as reaching the goal. Of course, when trains were invented, wizards saw merit in it, changing couple of days journey to less than one, but still, traditional journey in carriages stayed – those in the train, or the last part when older students take another rout to the castle than the first years. But that's another story, and I doubt that your sister can stand there that long," Harry finished with a smile.

Gabrielle sat upright, still somewhat doubtful since Harry didn't break the eye contact between them. But upon glancing both ways:

"Fleur!" she jumped up and run up to her sister, "You won't believe what I've learned!" she exclaimed practically bouncing around.

"That's good," Fleur said with a smile at her sister's excitement, forgetting all about her annoyance from before, "But we should get something to eat. Breakfast is almost over,"

"Oh, right," Gabrielle stopped, as if only now remembering that there was something like food. She turned and shouted, "Bye, Harry!" while waving her hand.

Fleur somewhat forgot that he was there, but looking at him again, she saw him simply waving back, and watching the entire exchange with a slight smile. Moments later her hand received a tug as her sister begun leading them to the castle, citing one fun thing about Hogwarts after the other.

"Harry sure knows a lot about Hogwarts," Gabrielle said at one point. "Do you think he would visit Beauxbatons some day? Then we could tell him all about it,"

That stopped Fleur in her tracks, and she once again glanced at the boy once again resting under the tree, and she just had to wonder what it was about him, that even her own sister immediately liked him.

* * *

After the lunch, everyone in the school went for the stands, seeking best places to watch the show. Champions on the other hand gathered in the tent beside the arena, waiting nervously for the time to begin. The only one still missing was Harry Potter, but once he stepped into the tent:

"Now, now. I can't allow this, Mr. Potter," Crouch said immediately upon seeing him.

"Excuse me?" he replied, checking his armour and Gryffindor's sword at his side, noticing nothing which would state that he wasn't ready to go.

"I can't allow you to participate with all those items," the judge stated while checking Harry's armour, being visibly surprised by the quality. "It wouldn't be fair to the other participants," he said, pointing to the rest of the champions in their simple protective gear.

"I'm sorry if I sound a little insensitive now, but why is it my problem how they prepare themselves for the unknown? You said it's the test of daring - but why is daring automatically connected to stupid?" he asked, and then, without waiting for an answer, drew his sword, "Fine, if you think it's meant to be like that, I dare you to take my sword away," Harry said while pointing the tip of the sword at Crouch.

Everyone else took a step back, while Crouch swallowed nervously.

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing?" he asked, while trying to make his way from under the wall, forgetting completely that he was in a tent, to the middle of the room, as to have some space to dodge if it would be needed.

"I'm younger than other champions, not saying anything about you, Mr. Crouch, and with all that additional training, I should appear to everyone as a kid with a knife. Yet, no one is bold enough to even think about getting the sword, just about getting away from the danger. I think that shows everything we need to know about daring," he finished, while sheathing his sword, and directing his steps to the exit.

"And what about you?" he heard a rough voice, and turned to see Krum measuring him with a challenging gaze.

"The tournament was meant for three people, so I shouldn't be here in the first place," he said, but seeing that Krum still held his gaze, "Well, if you insist," Harry walked right back, and presented him with the sword.

Viktor's gaze widened slightly, but he took the sword, slightly surprised that there wasn't anything as remarkable as he thought there should be.

"Now," Harry said while taking couple of steps back, "Try to kill me with it," he stated shortly, which surprised everyone.

Krum, never one to loose, took couple of steps towards Harry, but before he could build up any momentum:

"Well, I forgot to tell you that it wouldn't work anyhow," the raven-haired boy announced, at which the sword torn itself from Viktor's hands, and before the man could stop himself completely, he gone far enough to find the tip of the sword at his throat – with the sword simply hovering in the air.

Harry didn't know how shocking this was to others, but to him, it was just Magie wielding the sword. They found something strange while studying the sword's properties. While when he held it, it gave power to them both, but when she touched it all by itself, it gave power only to her. She wasn't as supercharged as when he did it, but she _felt_ even more corporeal than she normally was...

"What are you doing?" Viktor demanded, reminding Harry of the real world.

"Oh, sorry," he responded, and the sword glided to his hand, "I just wanted to state it again, that daring has nothing to do with being stupid. I mean, why didn't you just stun me with your wand? It should have been dead give-away – me giving you the sword and then taunting you to hit me with it. It smells of a trap from a mile away,"

Krum was scowling from the moment the sword left his throat, but frowned, more over his behaviour than that Harry used him. As much as he didn't like this boy, Viktor thought that there was much truth in what he was saying, and it would be good to keep this lesson in mind.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, that the challenge is not to your liking, but you're still bound to compete, and I can promise you that there won't be this kind of a mishap in the second task, since – well, the goal of the first task is to get the clue needed for the second task. Now, please, Mr. Potter, can we proceed?" Crouch asked, somewhat disturbed by the murmurs from the crowd that was probably tired of waiting.

Harry only sighed, stuck the sword in the ground, and went to change.

"You aren't taking the sword with you?" Cedric asked before Harry could walk away.

"No," he answered simply, "Why do you ask?"

"I mean, it's Gryffindor's sword. Aren't you afraid someone might steal it?"

Harry chuckled at that, "Well, I don't really think anyone here would steal it, but if you like it so much, why don't you try?"

He grinned more, when, while in the changing room, he could hear pants, grunts and general sounds of a struggling person, trying desperately to move something. The fact was, that even without Harry adding anything else to the mix, Gryffindor's sword had pretty tight security around it. The feature that was switched on right now, was taken straight from tales about Merlin, making it to stay in the ground until someone worthy came. It was Gryffindor's way of honouring the ancient wizard, but with his sword, you had to understand what was holding the sword down before you were able to take it out. Of course, Harry wasn't afraid of that happening, as you still had to "disarm" it wandlessly.

Truth be told, that was the lightest of passive defences the sword had. Gryffindor's favourite of active ones, as Slythering had told him, was when the sword turned the energy it took in, into heat, scorching the hands of the man who, unfortunately for him, had been able to take the sword, or even more - cause an explosion, depending on how much of the energy was used, to cause a distraction or destruction in the mids of the enemy, if it so happened that Gryffindor was captured.

Finishing changing his clothes, Harry thought that this turn in events spoiled his plan slightly. He was working hard to enchant armour, so it would be working together with the sword, allowing him, even a little of the additional energy without the need to wield the sword. Now, he had to think everything through again, since he wouldn't want to be long without Magie.

Stepping out of the changing room, he once again was the centre of attention, and after he checked he blindingly white robes he made out of a tablecloth from one of the tables, he asked:

"Don't tell me I still need to wear something else?" he asked, a little annoyed how picky people could be.

"Well, it wasn't what I would like, but it's better, and it will have to do," Crouch said, as the conversations from the crowd gathered outside were louder by the minute.

Official matters were at last addressed, with Mr. Crouch presenting the bag to every champion. Funny thing was, that Harry noticed that there was no surprise on anyone's face when they heard they were about to face a dragon – more like a feeling of certainty over bad news everyone knew all along, if he had to describe it.

After making sure everyone understood their task, Crouch left, and Harry relaxed as much as he could while listening to the ongoing commentary, until at last, it was his turn.

* * *

History of human encounters with dragons wasn't the most peaceful one - mainly because of all the riches that were said to be stowed in their nests. Of course, throughout the history there was more than just one misconception.

Medieval times were truly unsafe ones, and there was no safe way to travel while transporting large amount of gold with you. Robberies were common things in those times, but again, transportation problem was the same when it came to thieves who just so happened to acquire a sac, or ten, of golden coins. That's why most of assaults on carriages were done relatively closely to the hideout, most commonly in the thick forest near a cave, grotto, or very well hidden spot. This way it limited chances that another band of thieves would try their own heist while the gold was once again being transported. Of course, since medieval times were unsafe for all, when those thieves went to town to celebrate job well done, they might have found themselves dead by the hand of small time robbers, going just for couple of coins in the person's pockets.

Time would pass, and some time later animals would look for places to build nests in for another breeding season. Dragons were no exception of that. But since they were mighty creatures, they could pick safest and best hidden places, easily chasing away any previous inhabitants. As smart, powerful or wise dragons were, they didn't find anything valuable in shiny human toys. But after couple of times people lost in deep forest stumbled upon abandoned dragons nest, there was a big rumour that in every single case, mountain of gold laid on the deepest end. Generations of humans slaying dragons only to re-discover gold hidden there by someone else. Of course you can imagine surprise of those valiant heroes, that not on one occasion after killing off the dragon guarding the entrance, they found nothing more than empty stone walls and couple of large sized eggs.

Gold was of no importance to dragons, they found no value in gaining, keeping or guarding it. To them, just like to most animals, food, shelter and security were enough. Take one of those away, and there was hell to pay. But on the other hand, give them one of those, and you could be certain to be remembered. There was no prize that came with it, but trust of a dragon was certainly nothing to grimace at.

That's why when he was called out, everyone couldn't understand why Harry didn't spring into action, trying to beat other champion's time. Instead, he walked slowly out of the tent, dressed in his white robes, holding a large plate of burning oil over his head for all to see. Dragon Handlers were ready to go save him at any sight of danger, but to their surprise, Hungarian Horntail that was hissing just moments earlier, now stood still, watching the burning oil.

There are different types of fire, some representing anger, some hate, destruction. Gunfire is particularly rude. But even people not versed in recognising those subtle differences could thell that this one was peaceful, with its flames dancing across the plate's surface.

Harry stopped in the middle of arena, halfway between the entrance and the dragon had it's. He placed the plate on the stones at his feet, and simply sat cross legged in front of it, extending his hands toward the fire, and slightly rocking back and forth. People watched him for a minute rocking back and forth, and some that applied charms to their ears, could make a fain string of never ending words coming from him. It wasn't hard to guess that he was chanting.

That was another misconception passed throughout the history. While now rituals were based on intricate circle patters, numerous complicated rune strings, and precisely placed objects - wizards of ancient times did it in entirely different fashion. Everyone heard of those "Claw of a Raven, eye of a toad" concoctions prepared by hags in fairy-tales, but it was exactly like that. There was no right way to prepare a ritual in the past. Better said, all ways to do it were right. Wizards in the past used whatever they had at hand for the offerings, and their personal look on them deemed them worthy. Because no matter the object - the magic that wizards infused in them deemed them worthy of their place.

That's why when everyone just sat there, looking at Harry just rock back and forth, they couldn't see the other side of the exchange. Harry didn't even say any word, just emanate that humming sound, closer to meditating than speaking, while on the other side of burning plate from him, Maggie sat dressed in the whitest of whites, symbol of a pure offering, holding her hands above the flame. Harry locked his eyes with hers when she began to flicker fainter in tune with the flame, and she winked just moments before she disappeared out of existence.

If Harry's faith in Gryffindor's sword having, not only empowering, but also regenerative properties would fail, he wouldn't see her for about a week as his magical reserves would need to built up once more. But for now, whatever energy Magie took with her, had just combined with the element in front of him to form something new - a spirit of the flame.

Harry stood up tiredly, and tried to do as little threatening movements while stepping backwards halfway between the tent he came out from and plate resting in the middle of arena. There he knelled, sitting on his legs, and when he placed both of his hands on the ground, he bowed his head, waiting. After a couple of seconds watching him just stay in that position, everyone's attention came back to the plate, as once peaceful flame was now getting higher, while swirling furiously. When the fire was teen times higher, now looking more like a burning column, other colours joined the initial red, orange and yellow shades. Green, blue, indigo, violet joined first, making the flame to look more like twisted rainbow, before other minor shades would add themselves to the mix.

But those seven colours of the rainbow were enough of a hint to make more knowledgeable people in the audience go into a wide-eyed shock. What they were watching right this moment was the birth of a Gubraithian Fire. There was a reason why that everlasting fire was so valuable throughout the ages. It was literally a free-pass-card on every occasion you were assaulted by not only a dragon, but every other fire creature. Dealing with fire spirits and having eternal flame was like owning a perfectly cut diamond weighting closely to one ton. More than that, it was a sacred fire, giving perfect protection against any kind of undead, and shining through the darkest of nights.

The column of colourful flames begun swirling faster and faster, mixing darker shades with lighter, combining shades next to each other to the point where you could see only that nondescript greyish hue. But even that didn't last long, as the flame begun to descend once again, leaving clouds of smoke in its wake. When it was once again on the level it started from, all that was left was a brilliantly white fire dancing on the plate.

Everyone sat there, just staring at the unimaginable beauty fo the fire, until a furious roar reverberated throughout the air, and a long jet of fire came rushing to the middle of arena from the dragon everyone forgot about. Hungarian Horntail, so calm up to this point, came walking to the plate, still spewing fire all over it. But when it stopped, with head right above the large plate, the white fire was still there, dancing just as calmly as it was before.

Harry haven't moved an inch throughout it all, expecting something like that would happen, that the dragon would verify the existence of the fire. He still remembered the stories basilisk told him, about what happened to people trying to cheat the dragon.

But after a minute of staring at the flame, Hungarian Horntail picked up the plate with its mighty jaws, in a surprisingly gentle fashion, and carried it back to its nest. Placing it on the ground, it immediately begun to pick eggs from the nest and place it in the middle of white flame.

Indeed dragons were mighty animals and did not need any shiny toys to express that. Still, breeding season was no walk in the park for the mother. She had to stay with the eggs, constantly warming them with her flames, and when they hatched, she had to hunt for food for her children. That left her without sleep, food, or time to relax for a very long time.

But with Gubraithian Fire on hand, she could leave her eggs unattended, as they were constantly kept in warmth, and no one would be so stupid to disturb them, as the holy flame would snap at any sign of ill will. That left her free to gather food for herself and her offspring. Like said before, give food, shelter or security to an animal, and you would be remembered. Nothing to say when you gave all those at one go.

But while the nursing dragon mother was rearranging her nest, she stopped when the golden one found itself in her jaws. She knew her children, even when unborn. She could hear their fain heart-beats, and feel the magic coursing through their little bodies. But this one wasn't hers. She snorted a gust of hot air in annoyance and tossed the false egg to the side. That was Harry's cue to stand up, and slowly make his way to retrieve the egg, while the dragon was still busy with her own eggs.

When he was walking off the stage with his objective acomplished, he could see with the corner of his eye that the dragon was placing it's body around the new stack of her eggs. What stopped him in his track was what seemed to be a content sight from the dragon, and when he turned to look at her, she snapped her jaws at him. Harry had to smile, because it strangely seemed like a thank you. He bowed to her one last time, before going inside the tent, thus exiting ear piercing silence that settled into the arena.

* * *

AN. I don't really have a system for Parseltongue, and I thought that I will do it in bold. But then I changed my mind, and thought that bold would be better suited for a loud, reverberating sound (not really shouting), like Sonorus, or basilisk's voice that can be heard through thick walls. Nevertheless, let's just say that Harry's conversation's with the basilisk are in Parseltongue... I'll need to think of something if (ever) the snake will talk to anybody else.


	57. Chapter 57

Every time I hear someone scream, "Omg! It's J. K. Rowling.", I turn around and scream, "Where? Where?"... Does that answer your question?

* * *

"How the hell do you do those things?" reached Harry's ears immediately after he stepped into the tent with his egg firmly in hand.

After only first word Harry recognised his godfathers annoyed voice – the one he usually used when something fun happened and he wasn't the one to cause it. Not saying anything about not understanding hot it was done. Harry's already big smile only broadened when he noticed the man struggling without any greater effect with the Gryffindor's Sword that was still stuck in the ground.

"That trick with the dragon, or this little gadget," he gave the sword the 'I'll get you later' look, and used it to support himself after a long struggle, "And I heard that you were throwing off some wandless tricks, and-" he didn't manage to finish, suddenly finding himself sprawled on the ground.

Harry on the other hand was slightly surprised that Sirius brought up wandless magic out of nowhere, but then remembered his little display before the first task. It wasn't his goal to raise suspicions, and he thought that people would connect it with unknown powers that each legend surrounding Founders relics included. Remembering that there is no better way to lie than saying enough amount of truth and then shutting up, Harry called the sword to his hand, making Sirius' makeshift support to disappear which in turn resulted in his unceremonial fall to the ground.

But one thing worried Harry. When he held the sword firmly in hand, and even when he felt strength returning to his body, he didn't noticed Magie anywhere in sight. It saddened him that it seemed they would have to resign themselves to the visits in the Room of Requirements, as the short time they usually managed to spend there hardly ever seemed to be enough.

Then he remembered he wasn't alone, although Sirius' fall unsettled him enough to make him miss Harry's reaction entirely.

"Don't be daft," Harry said with a chuckle, seeing his godfather fighting with the dirt on his clothes, "This sword have enough of magic of it's own, like... You probably heard how it will come to the hand of it's wielder when he is in need. Well, more probable is that you heard that it will come to the aid of any true Gryffindor, but in essence, it's the same thing, since the sword chooses who is worthy of carrying it. But you would need to talk with the Sorting Hat about that, since it's pretty much the same thing as with sorting the students," he finished with a shrug.

Sirius, who at first was throwing an evil glare at him, now quickly thought about it and shrugged in a way that clearly said: 'You never know how those ancient things work'.

"But, why are you here?" Harry asked, partly to know, in part to switch the subject.

Sirius didn't manage to utter one word, as in the moment he opened his mouth, a group of people talking animatedly stormed into the tent, drawing Harry's and Sirius' attention, and making champions, and pretty much anyone else who was in the medical tent, come to see what the commotion was all about.

"Mr. Potter," Coruch begun without missing a step, but he wasn't the only one to speak.

"Harry," Dumbledore begun with his best kind-smile in place,"There seems to be some... uncertainty concerning your performance-"

"Oh, stop sugar-coating it, Dumbledore," Karkaroff snapped, clearly being the most outraged in the group, "It's obvious he cheated,"

"Well, that is uncertain at this point, but if anyone has any doubts, maybe anyone would like to ask young Harry here, so that this whole misunderstanding can be cleared out?" Dumbledore proposed, and Karkaroff didn't even wait a full second before starting his tirade.

"Fine, then tell me, how without any time to prepare-"

"Aside for that more than forty five minute hold-up when I was made to wait for my turn," Harry commented. He saw clearly that Karkaroff wanted to pick on him, so he decided to be specific from the start. Well, he also did it because he knew that it would aggravate the man even further.

"Even with that," Karkaroff started again, "How did you know exactly what you would be facing? The challenge was meant to be a secret from the very start,"

Harry just rolled his eyes and went to retrieve the miniature dragon that he left with his clothes – the very one he drawn at the beginning of the task. When other champions were puzzled at how calm the figure was in his hand, the judges exchanged glances at such an obvious mistake on their part. But Igor Karkaroff was hardly done.

"Ah! So you see," he exclaimed, "Potter himself says that he had time to prepare for a challenge he had known all along. The task was meant to measure the courage of each champion, and as such, I demand that he was disquali-"

"And if I remember correctly, I raised the issue of challenges not being prepared appropriately, haven't I?" Harry asked, looking pointedly at Crouch who just nodded somewhat uncomfortably.

Karkaroff seemed to be redder than ever after that, but still had one last argument on his side. Or so he thought...

"But it's impossible for such a young person to create that fire! He must have had someone help him with it!" hearing that, Harry just smiled.

The truth was, that creation of Gubrathian Fire wasn't difficult because of the power needed in the process. If it was only that, someone long time ago would propose for two people to do it, or simply use a warding stone to help them self along. The problem was not it, but the precise knowledge one needed to possess to be anywhere near even understanding the problem.

Normally, a person learns only as much as they need to, closely following the saying that "Necessity is the mother of invention". Even people who seem to learn for themselves fit into that pattern, in a way, as their need of good grades or better job, or maybe passion for particular subject, compels them to learn even more about particular subject.

Gubrathian Fire for many, if not for all, was the crown jewel of fire manipulation magic – with Fiendfyre stuck in the second place because of it's uncontrollable and dark nature. If Harry would be a normal person, his interest in fire would be only regarded only as an alarm bell, but never a sign of a cheater. But since it was not the case, he gladly spent ten next minutes on a monologue which included not small amount of facts about magical theory that even the teachers haven't fully understood before, casually giving references to various books. If anyone ever bothered to check, even only his library card, they would be surprised by how many subjects he included in his private study. Because, truth be told, if there ever was a person that could be truly called a renaissance man of magical word, Harry would be it.

There is another distinction between the usual learning, and how Harry did it. The reason why a normal person learns only as much as they need to, is because they don't need more. It might seem as a hollow sentence, until you understand that modern society is taught only certain skills, or a relatively narrow set of information, after which they are deemed educated and let into the world to do as they please.

The reason why a renaissance scholar is an example, even in modern times, is because only when a person have a deeper understanding on multitude of topics they know not only what are valid options, but also how things are connected and how do they cooperate, and most important of all, what are the repercussions when you change or even eliminate one element altogether. Only such a person, having even slight understanding of how the world operates, can go along his life without stomping anyone's feet at their every step.

Harry's schooling as a wandless wizard demanded from him such an understanding, and he didn't even tried to do a spell of that magnitude, simply concentrating on what was needed. But it was a trait of skilled wizards that they and their magics reacted to the world instinctively, taking best way possible.

"Well, yes," Mr. Crouch begun, not knowing what to say after being lectured by a fourteen year old child, "Now that everything is clear, I think that even you, Igor, think that Mr. Potter deserves full marks,"

Karkaroff grit his teeth, made an angry sound of assent and stormed off. Following that, Crouch begun by citing the scores, and explaining that the egg each champion was holding contained a clue to the next task. When everything was said and done, and it seemed that the group was about to disperse, Sirius halted Dumbledore.

"Albus, I would like a word with you," he said, and Harry noticed that he wasn't overly pleased by the fact, or maybe because of the topic of the conversation.

"Certainly, my boy," Headmaster said kind-heartedly, pleased with the result of the previous conversation, "But you will need to wait a while, as I need to see to some matters. The password to my office is-"

"I know it," Harry said from the side.

"Good, because you're coming too," Sirius said without leaving any space for arguing.

"Splendid. Now, run along," Dumbledore dismissed them before going out himself.

They went to the castle with Sirius refusing to say anything, but being more angry by the minute. Harry just raised his eyebrow at him, but didn't comment.

Upon them entering Headmaster's office, a loud squawk could be heard, and Harry noticed Fawkes the phoenix watching him curiously. Harry smiled sadly when he understood that it was wondering why he was alone – well, not counting Sirius, and went to pet the majestic bird in Magies place. In the meanwhile his godfather was ruining the carpet by pacing back and forth. They spent some time like that, when at last Dumbledore came through the door, and after making some files put themselves away, sat behind his desk.

"Now, how can I help you?" he asked looking between them.

"Help!" Sirius snapped, maybe a little more harshly than he wanted to, "Don't you help me with anything. Just tell me why Lilly's and Jame's will haven't been executed?"

"Oh, but it was," Dumbledore responded while wrinkling his brow, as if this was the first he heard of it.

"Oh, but it wasn't," Sirius challenged, but for Harry's taste, it resembled a kid trying to be mean just a little too closely, "I spoke with the record keeper in the Gringott's, and it never even was opened,"

"I don't know if you reacall, but I was the executor of the will, and I know perfectly well what had to be done," Albus replied with the patience of an older man.

"Do you really? Then why was Harry placed with his relatives? I mean, I was in jail, but still, even without the Longbottom's, there was Frank's mother, especially that Harry is the same age as Neville. Tonks..."

Harry listened to Sirius' rant, and thought about every proposition. As much as he liked Neville, being raised in the same house meant that he could have ended the same way – shy and not really famous for his self-esteem. Tonks? He never heard of them, and maybe he would think of them as his real family, only to hear that he was adopted. Would it break him? Or maybe they would constantly remind him of how great his parents were, and he would wallow in self-pity because he could never truly meet them...

Harry thought about every possible model of a child being brought up, and at the end of it, reminded himself of his own upbringing. True, Dursley's had their shortcomings as parents along the way, but who doesn't? And in the long run, he rather liked who he was, and without them, with someone doing things perfectly, who knows how he might have ended up? Heck, he could even be another Malfoy, not really so stuck up, since he thought his parents knew their friends better than that, but prince in his own way, self-assured and looking down his nose whatever happened...

It was absurd thought, and with it, came another absurd image. He looked at Sirius, kicking and screaming about that thing or another, and Dumbledore just sitting there, with that calm expression clearly stating 'One day you'll understand it's for the best'.

He saw something similar, many years ago. There was only one person who could withstand Dudley's tantrums whenever he wanted anything – Vernon's mother. She also was one of few people that treated Harry as perfectly normal kid. Now, he could risk guess that it was because Vernon would never admit to his own mother that he had something as abnormal as him – also it would explain why he saw her only when it was she who visited them. It was sad she passed away before he could remember anything more than the fact that she was a sweet little lady, but here he was again, seeing Dudley stomping his feet and that fragile little woman sitting there with that expression that when you saw it, you yourself begun thinking that it all was going to work out.

Harry couldn't stop it and laughed. His laughter stopped Sirius in his tracks, and made to turn around with a questioning look at such a behaviour when adult's were discussing important matters.

"Come now, Sirius," Harry said, but was still chuckling slightly, "Don't you know that children should stay with their family?" he finished with a smile, before shaking his head and walking out of the room.

"Precisely!" Dumbledore said with a clap of his hands, then turned once again to Sirius, "You see, Harry understands it perfectly, why can't you?"

Sirius, baffled by the turn of the events, he rushed after his godson. Catching him on the landing of the rotating stairs, he had exactly one question: "What the hell was that back there?"

"I just couldn't let you pester that old man any more," Harry responded with pity in his eyes and shaking his head at such a bad idea.

"Oh, come on! Dumbledore isn't so old, he can handle himself," Sirius replied with a scowl.

"That's not the 'old' I was referring to," Harry commented, at which his godfather wrinkled his brow, "He's senile, Sirius," he said matter-of-factly, making the older wizard snort.

"I know you have some grand ideas kid, but I don't think you're seriously saying that Dumbledore is..." he left it hanging while he twirled his finger right next to his temple.

"Once again, not really that meaning of the word. I don't doubt his logical or mental capabilities when he has to solve a very important matter. But he's just simplifying things in his own way. It's like, I don't know... Imagine you brought back a doctor from sixty years ago and made him treat people now, immediately you would hear: 'Give them penicillin! It works for everything!'. While it's stupid now, it was the mentality of that time and everyone thought it to be true. Now, ask any old person and they'll tell you that family is the most important thing you can ever have. Dumbledore is just like that. Perfectly sane, but making his decisions on mentality he had held or acquired throughout his hundred plus years of life,"

Harry finished, not having any better comparison at hand, and noticed that Sirius was no longer beside him. He turned around and noticed him standing couple of steps behind with his eyes wide and mumbling something quietly. He stepped closer to the man and finally understood what he was saying.

"For the greater good?" Harry repeated to make sure he caught it right.

Sirius swallowed audibly and finally looked at his godson.

"It was something Dumbledore used to say whenever we asked him about something, and he couldn't explain it to us,"

Harry just shrugged and continued on his way. Sirius caught up to him and spoke frantically.

"Aren't you going to do something? Anything?" that just made Harry stop again.

"And what would you like me to do? Tell the wizarding world that Dumbledore is old?" he said with a chuckle, "Come on. World didn't fell apart so far, and I doubt it that it will now that you have this new knowledge, so stop panicking. As for Dumbledore, I told you already that he doesn't seem to be so far gone, maybe just on auto-pilot when some things are considered. And besides, when the time comes, do you really think I would do anything beside the things I myself think I should do? No matter what authority told me to do anything else? Or that any other person with enough mind of their own would?"

Sirius didn't even had to think about it much, and his face immediately changed into a broad grin.

"No, I guess I don't need to worry," he replied without even a hint of worry.

"Dinner?" Harry proposed.

"Sure," Sirius responded, admiring this new turn of events. He thought that this probably was the best prank he ever heard of: an entire community following the words of a senile man.

* * *

Harry thought that hope would be pointless here, but still, he fought of the inevitable as long as he could. At one point, he got tired of people pestering him about the puzzle in the egg and the next task, and while everyone was present in the Gryffindor commonroom, he gave the egg to the Twins that were at the exact moment asking him about it, and while everyone gathered around it, he used anything nearby to shield his ears from the waills he knew that were comming. When George opened the egg and people started scattering for cover, with some fighting for the right to be the first to close the damned thing, Harry noticed something strange. When the strange sound was muffled by couple layers of pillow, it seemed almost understandable...

* * *

Next week or so went by calmly, with nothing major interrupting the usual events in the castle. In the hindsight one could say that it was the calm before the storm, because teachers announced the Yule Ball, and all hell broke loose.

After the lesson that the announcement came, Professor McGonagall made Harry stay behind, and since Neville once again forgot something in the library, Hermione had to get on her own through scores of giggling girls and groups of boys who looked almost suicidal.

Finally she managed to get to the Gryffindor common room, and ignoring the commotion that was even here, as usual she started reading up on her homework. Some time later, Harry came through the portrait hole, and immediately she noticed that look he had, indicating that he was troubled with something.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned, as he got to where she was, and sat beside her on the couch.

"Well... It's..." he tried to tell, only stopping after first word, his brows furrowing, as he was scratching his head.

"You know that you can talk with me about anything that is on your mind. So, what is it?" she tried again, putting away her books.

"Yes, I know I can. But..." he glanced around, looking if anyone was listening. "Do you have couple of hours to spare?" he asked in the end, bringing his voice to a whisper.

"Does it have anything to do with the tournament?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah, every champion must do one crucial thing to be prepared for this one." he continued to whisper, locking his eyes with hers.

"If we change our schedule slightly, we could have couple of hours..." she too whispered, coming a little closer, already thinking how to fit everything.

"No, not right now." Harry whispered, again looking around.

"Then when?" Hermione asked in the same quiet whisper, slightly glancing around the room.

"25th of December would be best." Harry responded, their heads only inches apart so they could be able to hear the other ones whisper

"It's Christmas, so there should be a lot of... free... time..." she begun to speak slower as one other thing came to her mind "Harry, Yule ball is on 25th of December."

"Yes, I know." he answered, smiling slightly.

That smile of his clued her on what was going on, and she sat upright abruptly.

"Are you asking me to go to the Yule ball with you?" she asked very slowly.

"I've been getting there, but in essence? Yes," he answered grinning fully.

Hermione's only response was to swat him on the shoulder.

"Wait, I haven't caught if that was yes or no. Could you repeat that?"

Hermione hit him on the arm harder.

"Ah, yeah, now I understand," he said while getting ready to get up. He stopped suddenly. "Damn, I forgot. What was your answer again?"

"Yes!" she hissed. "I will go with you, you big baby." she said in annoyance, like she did it only to get rid of him for the moment. It might even be true if not that smile on her face, or additional chuckle that Harry caught as he was massaging his arm, looking hurt. When Hermione caught that he noticed it, she just rolled her eyes, but then looked at him again.

"You said that it had something to do with the Tournament, and that it was very crucial..." she said, with her head tilted to the side.

"Professor McGonagal just told me that there is no other choice for the champions but to come with dates." Harry said with a shrug.

Hermione just shook her head, and with a big huff, put her book in front of her face to limit any other pointless conversations. That, or to hide a bright smile that she couldn't fight anymore.

* * *

Having date already, Harry could tell that the whole affair was quite funny – guys getting cold feet just moments before asking, girls getting all giggly about who they would like to go with, but not really knowing how to react when asked by someone they didn't like.

But in this whole affair, Hermione had reminded him, with a single "Harry, do you know how to dance?", that he, in fact, would have to do it in front of entire school. He might have some fun with Magie in the disco that was in the Town, but it was one thing to imagine things, and quite another to actually move your feet.

Never one to disappoint, Harry managed to talk Professor McGonagall into allowing them to use one of the classrooms and an old gramophone for some training sessions. Although she behaved as if she was only approving of such preparations, Harry wasn't sure if he had caught her knowing smile or merely imagined it.

Nevertheless, that's how Harry found himself standing in the middle of an empty classroom, with a slow waltz playing in the background, and his arms full of his friend, one Hermione Jean Granger.

When the first couple of seconds passed, a steady rhythm begun, perfect for beginning learners. It was also the moment when Hermione took her first step. Problem was that Harry stayed firmly in place.

"Why didn't you move?" she asked.

"Oh, sorry. I just forgot who was leading here," he replied with a smile, making her blush slightly.

"Sorry," she mumbled, and once again took her place.

The rhythm continued, and when it once again came to the place where you should start, Hermione was about to move again, but upon catching his raised eyebrow, she simply huffed and resigned herself to his whims. Harry just chuckled slightly, and started swaying with the rhythm, and she noticed that, unconsciously, she was doing the same.

"Now, let's go for a walk," he said, and made his step perfectly in tune with the music. Hermione's eye's widened slightly when her legs did the same, seemingly on their own.

Harry lead her like that for a short while, calmly setting one foot in front of the other in tune with the music.

"Harry, this isn't dancing," Hermione commented, but still marvelled how her feet simply set themselves in tune with his.

Hearing that, Harry simply added a slight twist to every other step, making them dance around the small room, still perfectly in tune with the music.

"Isn't it?" he replied smiling slightly, clearly enjoying her bafflement.

"How are you doing this?" she asked, now unceremonially watching her feet move on their own.

"Well, you ever heard how you have to have the right dancing partner? I mean, with people who train professional dancing, it's like with any other sportsman, they do it by reflex alone. But an average person really can't dance with some people because of the fact that they don't feel comfortable while doing it. You could even say that it comes to things as basic as trust," he kept talking, even as he was moving them around the room.

"Some women say that a man always leading is a bad thing, as it is symbol of women having less rights. I don't understand that. There is as much decision in following as in leading, since you can always choose to go the other way, and then we would stumble as surely as when I would try to move you by force. But I don't do that, and you instinctively know that you can trust me. That's why your feet move on their own, as you don't really worry that I might take you somewhere you wouldn't want to or are afraid to go,"

Hermione listened to him, but couldn't shake the thought of just how close he was to her, his warm breath on her skin, his eyes looking unwaveringly into hers. She stumbled slightly, and he caught her, twirling her in place and bowing in the exact moment the song ended. It was enough time for her to hide her surprise, because for a moment there, she forgot that Harry was telling her about dancing, and not about them being a...

"You see, we can dance," Harry said after finally breaking the traditional bow at the end of the dance.

"But that's not how wizards dance," she responded, her imagination once again under her control.

"True. But I only said that we can dance. Now all we have to do is to learn the steps," he replied with a smile, and she couldn't help but chuckle, because, like always, his logic was indisputable.

* * *

AN. Erm, yeah. I wasn't here for a while. In fact, I wasn't anywhere a computer, but it's a long story. Now I'm back, and only thing I can say is: I really like teasing Hermione, and I don't know why...


	58. Chapter 58

How many times do I have to say that I'm not J. K. Rowling? Well... I guess at least once more.

* * *

Harry thought of himself as a well balanced person, when it came down to how he distributed his personal informations. He replied to any question presented to him as honestly as he possibly could without raising any discomfort in the person he was talking to with too much information. A simple rule of thumb, really, if you take take a look at every "Fine" people hear after asking "How are you?". Of course the person could tell in excruciating detail how exactly they're feeling, but it is seldom that the one that asked would like to get that particular set of informations from the conversation. That's why Harry didn't felt particularly bad about the fact that he omitted his imaginary friend that could turn the world upside-down if he'd asked, or that he was mentored by a man that was supposed to be long dead, or even that he frequently had "tea-talks" with a sixty-foot snake. It was hardly what average person wanted to converse about between a bite of a roll and a sip of tea at the breakfast table.

Harry didn't have anything against people asking about his secrets, given that they were genuinely interested – in such a case, he might be tempted to sit with them for whatever time would be necessary and explain, calmly and thoroughly, point after point, not only the item they asked about, but also everything needed to fully grasp the topic. After such an ordeal, when the person knew as much as he did, and understood that particular thing absolutely, it wouldn't even be necessary for him to tell that person why it should be kept secret, since it would be their own conclusion. He knew, since he did it before, and not only with his closest friends.

Anything less, any sign that that particular person didn't really care, and Harry would pay them in kind, giving dismissive and half hearted answers. He could entertain light talk, exchange curt "How's life?" or "How's it going?". But what he could not stand was that type of a person that thought that you would tell them every single thing about yourself just because they've asked. No, it had more to do with that guilt trip they made you go on when you stated, repeatedly, that you wanted for some things to stay private.

Saying it lightly, Harry wasn't too fond of reporters.

Once again, that would be too broad of a statement, since there are occasions and events every human being should know immediately as they are happening, War or end of it, new plague beginning its reign or cure for a major disease being invented... Of course, those are only news that happen not so often, and people in particular countries and regions have their own tragedies and victories. That was all fine, but there is an unspoken line, which should have been written as a rule long time ago, that many reporters forget no one should ever cross.

Maybe it's the times, the pace the world is spinning in, or the fact that yesterday's news are no news at all – but it all makes media's pile on information at unimaginable speed, as to avoid leaving the reader with less text than before. And it rush the business so much, that it came down to the fact that more than ninety percent of average news report is trash, with only ten percent being proper information, and that always stays the same... Death, theft, coruption, tragedy, injuries, and much much more of the same, with one or two soppy stories how life isn't so bad after all. Harry caught this at a young age, and even now he thought of a day spent on watching cartoons being so much more fruitful than following news. Cartoons at least still carried some morals with them.

But the worst in this were the people that continued their holly quest of picking as much information from their current focus, pestering people, baring old wounds for all to see... And all of it not to help, not to solve the situation, to help people get along. No. All of it to simply gather the information, round it with catchy words, and pass along to print before they cast their gaze at something entirely new. Because, of course, existence of people that aren't quite perfect and don't really achieve everything without fail is quite shocking, isn't it?

It wouldn't be so bad if the story was at least somewhat accurate, but with the previously mentioned speed of flow of information, what readers get on more than one occasion is at least rumours, with a full blown out manipulation of facts if there was no other way to present news...

Harry took one more calming breath and started thinking about the topic from the start. It was just that when he thought he was stating clearly where were the lines Rita shouldn't cross, she thought of how he was limiting the "liberty of the press".

He haven't participated in that interview because, even if she were a trustworthy reporter, he knew, how from one word here, and couple here and there after editing for the print, his simple statements could, in quite natural way, change meanings – and it would be him who would have to clear every single misunderstanding.

He didn't even as much as comment what she produced in place of his interview, thinking that if he played fair long enough, Skeeter might understand that he simply didn't want some things in print. He even thought that it went fairly well, with her giving factual recall of the first task, and even leaving Hagrid alone when he stated that he was a very dear friend of his.

But then it became clear that some people simply don't know what it means to play fair.

_Many more people than only inhabitants of Hogwart carefully watch the oncoming Yule Ball. For instance, many professional seamstresses agree that for the next collection to be successful, it will need to be based on whatever creation Harry Potter's girlfriend, who will be attending the ball with him, will be wearing..._

And it was only the beginning of the text, which concentrated much more closely on Hermione, than whatever people thought about the Yule Ball.

_Girlfriend._ That was the word that was the most over-used in the entire text, as it seemed that Rita was set on beating it to any doubtful mind that Hermione was in fact his girlfriend.

Harry himself didn't know what he and Hermione were... But he couldn't even talk with Hermione about that, since aside from her own problems, she had to deal with other peoples opinions, as not only the school started commenting on their supposed relationship, but also people from all around the country wrote letters – some to him, but much more to her – about how she wasn't the perfect one for him.

Harry didn't care about people being mean to him. In fact, it was his usual pas-time to use their own words and ideas to chase them away. But Hermione couldn't do it like that. She relied on her problem solving brain and scheduling skills to deal with everything, and since the time that Rita's article reached the school, she, even without stating it with a single word, set a firm protocol in place, which detailed precisely how they should or shouldn't be near each other.

At this point in time it went so far that he reacted automatically to her motions, but not as when they had danced during their practice runs – which in fact got cancelled when she decreed that it wasn't proper – but in a mechanic, dull way. She would do something, and he, following a set of directives responded in exactly predictable way. He couldn't even make her laugh, as it would only make her annoyed...

Harry didn't knew what, but surely there was something he could do for Rita to make her understand fully, in excruciating details, that there are some things in peoples lives that should never be tampered with. But it would have to wait. He might even make it into his new hobby, but it would have to wait, as there were more important things at hand.

* * *

Harry understood what the wailing egg remained him off. It was just like with dementors, when he heard their rasping noises, but at the same time, he could almost hear his mother humming to him. Of course, it was only a comparison, but it was close enough, because whenever the egg wailed, he could almost make something out of it – well, if the egg was stuffed under every pillow and blanked his dormitory had available.

That was his biggest clue so far. That, and his basic knowledge of physics: sound behaving differently, having different speed, amplitude and pitch, depending on what environment it was transferred in. Question was, what environment should he be looking for? Since, obviously, air didn't work at all.

But he was somewhat doubtful of that theory, seeing as wizards didn't have that kind of information in their curriculum. On one hand, he could be going in entirely different direction pursuing this idea, but on the other, it could be his good luck that wizards dismissed solutions that weren't their own, and thought this task to be so much difficult than it really was... and if it was, he would be the stupid one for wasting three weeks, listing every possible explanation, rather than follow his initial thought.

But in the moment he got fed up with it, and was about to take the egg for a stroll and test his theory:

"Whatcha doin?" he heard from right behind of him, and even when he was whirling to meet the person face to face, he knew without a doubt who it would be.

Surely enough, Magie was standing there like nothing ever happened, sucking on a lollipop... 'Is it carrot-flavoured one?' he thought.

'Yep,' immediately came a reply in his mind, 'Wanna lick?' she asked, presenting it to him, and he couldn't help it, and, while chuckling, he hugged her. 'Everything alright?' she asked somewhat doubtful, not really understanding the situation.

'I just haven't noticed just how much I've missed you,' he said with a smile, only now noticing that he was fortunate enough that there was no one else in the dormitory at that moment. He thought briefly how one can explain a spontaneous need to hug the air...

'Don't change the subject,' brought him from his thoughts, 'What's with the egg?' Magie continued.

'I thought you knew as much as I did,' Harry couldn't help but comment.

'If it's something important, or something I have to do for you, then yes, I just sort of have the needed informations. But it's hardly like I have nothing better to do than sitting all day long and spying on your conversations,' she huffed at him for the fact that he thought she could be so insensitive, but he noticed that it was her usual game, and only chuckled again.

'Well then, I probably will have to brief you on much things that happened that past couple of weeks, but for now I have to deal with this egg that I got from the first task. It's supposed to be-' Harry begun, but Magie had other things to do at that moment.

'Wait a minute, I'll just set some music for your epic story,' she announced, and only now did Harry notice that she was furiously twisting knobs in search of some radio station, on a radio that strangely reminded him of a fishtank.

'I didn't knew you could-' Harry started commenting on her ability to, not really receive radio-waves (he hoped), but to recreate any music from memory, but once again, Magie had her own business on mind.

'There, now that's better, isn't it?' she said after a slow, soft song begun flowing from her radio.

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground..._

'Magie...' Harry said with uncertainty, not really remembering he had ever heard this song before.

_And while you're searching, ponder this;_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss..._

'Hmm?' she at last reacted to his words, turning to him and giving him a questioning look.

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And recover what we took,_

'Exactly, what are we listening to?' he asked, coming closer while now giving every single word of the song his undivided attention.

_But past an hour - the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back._

'The Egg,' Magie read from the display atop the fishtank, 'That's a strange name for a radio station, isn't it?' she asked, turning to him. 'Are you quite alright?' she inquired for the second time that evening, as Harry was standing stiff at her side, with his eyes widened in a surprised astonishment, and only part of him moving being his eyes, flicking once in a while between the fishtank and a stack of blankets lying on his bed.

The temporary surprise passed, and he begun laughing uncontrollably at the pun with which he was just been presented. He was right all along, that the egg had to be placed in different environment than air. But it wasn't so much about the place, but the density of the material that was about to transfer the sound, and Magie, with all her goofiness, carelessness, pure genius and brilliance – he doubted there were words with which he could explain what she had in her – had simply "tuned in" to the exact mass per volume configuration, and instantly solved the first part of the puzzle.

'I don't think I say often enough just how amazing you are,' he said to her while wiping the tears from his face.

'Then you have to try harder,' she cheered with so much encouragement that he was reduced to another fit of laughter.

* * *

It didn't take Harry too long to solve the text of the song from the egg – the fishtank being a great clue as for where he should seek the voices. Of course, the most disturbing part was about what he was about to lose, and for the simple fact that he was absolutely sure, even only moments after reading that part again, what it would be. His friends. One of them would end in the cold waters of the Dark Lake.

He immediately asked Neville to grab Luna and bring her to the Room of Requirements, while he took care of Hermione. At first she was reluctant to accompany him on her own anywhere, having to think it through, if it should be allowed or not, but one quick "I've solved the clue" made her inquisitive nature flared, and she was on her feet before he could blink. Troubles begun again when they reached the room itself.

"Where's everybody?" she asked, stopping in the centre of the overly, for her comfort, desolated room.

"I've told Neville to bring Luna, but if she's in her common room... Well, you know how Neville is when it comes to passwords," he replied, watching her, noticing that that kind of an answer clearly wasn't what she had been expecting.

"Well, then... We-we should..." she started, stiff, gazing here and there to find whatever she could do to break this oh so impromptu moment. Harry watched her, saw the cogwheels in her head turning at a neck-breaking speed, and shook his head, seeing that after all, they really needed to talk about it.

"Hermione," he said, and she stopped completely, like a doe caught in the light from the oncoming car. "You've ever read much about etiquette?" he asked, and she deflated visibly over the fact that he had chosen such a extrinsic topic, just to keep them occupied. Harry smiled slightly over that. "You know how people always complain how higher spheres are always stiff, but I find it quite wrong assumption. It may seem that you have to learn long and hard, and always mind your manners, but the truth is that, surprisingly, all of it lets you move more freely. Like, when you're in company of people who you don't know at all, you immediately know how to introduce yourself, act, or speak to anyone in the room without having to worry that you might offend anyone – Heck, you could even do that. Strangely, it's possible to say exactly what you think of another person without the need to throw vulgarities at one another or even raising fists. Well, as much as it looks that they're stiff, or even going so far as to say that they look like everything was choreographed, I think that they were the people that possessed the ability to truly communicate with each other," he made a pause to give her a pointed look.

"But what you're doing," those words made her go stiff again, doubly so as he begun to slowly walk up to her, "isn't what I have just described. You rely on rules so much that every single thing we do must be codified-"

"I don't!" she snapped, but before she could continue, Harry smiled and asked one simple question.

"How many times have I made you laugh, counting from when the article was published?"

He waited, seeing her mind race, and he shook his head when he noticed that she actually debated with herself over the question.

"There is a surprise in every joke, something different than what you assumed, and it makes people laugh. But I can't make you laugh since everything you're unprepared for just makes you annoyed," he voiced, and she stopped, biting her lower lip in agitation.

"I know that you're uncomfortable about the situation, trust me, I can see that. And I know that you're trying your best to find a solution, and I'm okay with that. Even more than that, I would like to help you with whatever you want me to do... But not like that. Not when we're pretending that everything is okay, while all we do is move out of each other's way." he said, stopping when he was right in front of her.

"Then what should we do?" Hermione asked, and he could see at once that she was trying to list new set of rules, and it made him smile.

"I have a proposition," he stated simply, and in that exact moment a slow waltz begun playing from Magie's fishtank radio that appeared out of nowhere. Hermione noted that it was the same tune to which they had their first dance. He set his body into dancing position, and she reluctantly took her place in front o him.

"Relax," he said, "And breathing is a good idea," he commented, and smiled at the roll of her eyes, after which she indeed took a deep, calming breath. He slowly begun rocking from side to side, and when she was in tune with his movements, he calmly started moving around the room, following the steps that they've learned so far. But it wasn't long before he started adding his own figures, starting from turning in the opposite direction than she anticipated, doing couple of twirls here and there, or anything else that he was thinking at the time.

Surprising part was, that she kept up with him at every step, anticipating his movements after the first surprise, and even there not making as much as a misstep. She haven't even noticed when he made her lead, since he followed her as closely as she was following him, understanding what she was about to do even when she, herself wasn't aware that she was deciding what would come next.

But their dance ended, too quickly if one would ask her before she could stop herself from answering truthfully, and Harry took half of a step back, just to give her some space.

"I'm sorry that I don't know how to explain it any clearer," he said with a sheepish smile while he was scratching the back of his head, and she laughed. He couldn't help but grin, seeing her like that, doubled with full, belly laughter and wiping the happy tears that were rolling from her eyes.

"Can we do that?" he asked simply, and he knew that she understood what he was talking about – that even when the steps were set, there was still a lot of space for change, improvisation or communication between the two.

"Yes, Harry," she said, mirth still thick in her voice, "I think we can do that,"

Of course, so much they were involved i their own affairs, that they haven't noticed for pair of eyes following their every movement.

* * *

"I think Skeeter had written more truth than we previously thought," Luna said moments earlier, watching, captivated, as her two friends glided around the room, effortlessly moving to the music in a room that one could only say was cluttered with furniture. "I only wonder when they will notice it,"

"Notice what?" Neville asked from her side, as stunned by his friends performance as the girl standing beside of him. But when no response came, he glanced at her with a questioning look, missing the end of the dance, but when Hermione started laughing and he looked at them again, he caught it. The way Harry was looking at her, or how he set a strand of hair behind her ear when she stopped. Even the way Hermione set his robes right...

They continued talking, but Neville doubted that they were concious of all those small things they did just to not let go of the other in whatever sense of the phrase.

"That dance reminds me," Luna's voice brought him back to here and now, "Do you want to ask me to the Ball?" she asked, and he froze, too shocked to speak. In fact, he was thinking about asking her, but his shyness always prevented him from uttering the words. Seeing as Luna wouldn't let him off the hook without him answering her, he dumbly nodded his head.

"Hmm," she murmured, tilting her head, "Then tell me when you're going to do it, so I can be pleasantly surprised," she said before skipping into the room and greeting her friends.

He was left there, in front of the room, gaping, utterly bewildered, not even sure if had or hadn't imagined a sly smile on her face as she glanced back at him.

It would be quite some time before he broke himself out of the daze and went inside to hear the newest turn of events.

* * *

Harry had just explained what he had learned from the egg, and what would be his approach to the task. His friends only grinned at his idea What puzzled him was when he asked if he could borrow Seizie to war Rose, just in case, Luna responded that she doubted that it would be her, before giving him a pointed look.

He exchanged glances with Hermione, but seeing that she haven't understood that eiter, he looked to Neville for support – but they boy was just sitting there, staring at Luna like he had seen her for the first time in his life.

He shook his head, told everyone that it was all he had for tonight, but as he was about to leave the room after the girls, Neville stopped him at the threshold.

"H-Harry, could I have a word?" he asked in that distinctive voice he used when he was nervous about something.

"Sure, Neville, what's up?" and then he heard about the conversation the two had in front of the room. Not entire conversation, but rather the last couple of sentences that Luna had thrown at Neville, seemingly out of nowhere.

"So, why didn't you ask her then?" Harry asked when Neville finished. Obviously, his friend wasn't anticipated that kind of answer. He started stuttering and spluttering about everything that had stopped him from asking on the first few tries. Harry endured it all, but pointed couple of things when Neville had had ran out of steam.

"Answer me this," he started,"Who mentioned you asking her to the ball, out loud?"

"She did," Neville responded in a quiet voice.

"And did she tell you not to do it?" Harry went deeper.

"No. She said I should tell her when I'm about to do it," Neville repeated

"And what does that mean?" Harry thought that by now, things were clear enough. Neville proved him wrong, and just shrugged helplessly. "It means that she want's to be asked to the ball, Neville."

"She does?" Neville asked incredulously.

"Yes. It's as simple as that," Harry announced, but then looked at his friend, and could see that he was still thinking it all through. Then he chuckled, because he understood what Luna was doing, and mentally noted that he should do something to help things along.

"Neville, you always say how I'm able to do all the things I do. Want to know how it's possible?" Harry asked, and immediately Neville looked as if he was about to start making notes. "Certainty," he stated simply and with finality.

"That's it?" Neville asked, not believing that that was it.

"It may seem that it's not much, but when you're certain of yourself, and of the thing you're doing, practically nothing can stand in your way,"

"So, every time you did something I couldn't think of-"

"Yes! I was certain of the outcome," Harry assured him, and Neville's eyes shone with adoration. "Though I'm quite surprised of how many times my ideas worked the first time around," Harry continued. Adoration gone.

"W-what?" Neville asked, not knowing if he heard correctly. "You-you mean that every time you did something, you were sure you would fail?"

"Yeah..." Harry admitted sheepishly, "I've been sitting there, thinking of all those backup plans, and – oops, it's over," he continued while scratching his head, "But don't worry, when you're certain of yourself, even when you fail, you'll just keep on going," Harry said with a shrug and left the room.

Neville was lost on words for the second time that evening. He couldn't belive in what Harry was saying. Surely his friend was just joking, and couldn't play like that with... well, the world around him. Then, he remembered some things Harry had had done, and swallowed audibly. He hoped that his friend was joking...

* * *

The day of the Yule Ball had come, with Great Hall decorated for the occasion, everyone gathered within the festive mood that was thick in the air. But when the opening dance started, nothing of it mattered, as everyone in the room turned to watch Harry and Hermione.

It wasn't that other champions looked less presentable, were adored less, or anything of that sort. But it was how the two moved together that captivated the crowd. It wasn't just dancing, not even gliding around the floor was enough. It was as if the music played to them, and not them dancing to the music.

"What is is?" Hermione voiced, missing that entire hall was watching their every step, "You've been watching me like that this entire time. Is something wrong?" she asked, inspecting her periwinkle-blue dress.

"No, it's nothing like that, you're absolutely gorgeous," he said, not for the first time that evening, "It's just..."

"You don't like it," she murmured while lowering it's gaze.

"It's not like that. It's perfect, for tonight, but I like you better as yourself," at that, her head snapped up like a whip, but Harry was more concerned with explaining it so as not to offend her efforts to notice it, "I mean, I like your hair bushy, for the simple fact that I've never seen another person who would have them exactly like yours. Or your teeth, even as they were before you had a cute smile. Not to mention all those little things you do, like when you nibble on your lower lip when you're thinking about something very difficult..." he caught himself that he was rambling, and not only that, but staring at that cute smile he was just talking about. He raised his gaze a little higher, and noticed that Hermione's eyes were shining with mirth, but also something else..

"I just wanted to say that you don't need hours of preparations to look good... Now I will shut up," he mumbled but she still caught it.

"It's okay... and thank you, Harry," she said, and laid her head in the crook of his neck.

They danced like that for a while, then they've danced some more, but at one point, when a song ended:

"Could I have this dance?" reached them, and when they turned, Victor Krum was standing in front of them, looking at Harry expectantly.

"Erm... You mean with me or Hermione?" he couldn't help but ask, seeing as Krum thought he was the one deciding with whom she danced.

"Harry, stop it," she berated him, although her light chuckle spoiled the effect, then turning back to Victor, "Of course," she said while grabbing the Bulgarian champion's hand, but not even two steps away, she turned, and with only glance at Harry and his goofy grin, the only thing she could do was to shake her head.

Harry used this time to get some refreshments and look around the hall. He immediately spotted Neville and Luna dancing off to the side. That brought a smile to his face. He haven't even had that much time to watch who else was on the dance floor when a flustered Hermione joined him. He gave her the additional cup he brought, and only after she gulped it in one go, dared to ask:

"So-" he begun, but Hermione wasn't ready to talk just yet.

"Could we just go out for some fresh air?" she asked, even as she already moved for the entrance. Harry frowned, but followed closely after her.

Only when they were outside, sitting comfortably in front of a stone reindeer that she started rambling how Krum was such a prat, not letting that damned _article_ go, wanting to know everything there was...

Harry stayed silent throughout it all, listening to everything she was saying, and only when she had cooled off and run out of steam, did he comment.

"Don't you think that you over reacted? Even if only a little?" he added the second part when she threw him an evil glare. "I mean, from what you've told me, he was simply showing his interest in you," at that she looked at the ground, not saying a word, "Or is it simply because of the article, and-"

"Where is this buzzing sound coming from?" she snapped, her temper rising again.

Harry blinked, surprised at this outburst, but was surprised to agree that there was a furious buzzing that was in the background for some time now, even as he haven't been paying attention to it. He glanced around, and immediately he noticed Magie standing by the stone reindeer, with what seemed to be a glass pressed against the stone.

'Erm... Sorry. I didn't want to interrupt, but this little simply cried for my attention,' she said with a helpless shrug, and Harry stood up to see what the commotion was all about.

"Hermione, could you come here?" he called as he asked Magie to do a real glass jar, and turned just in time to present Hermione with a beetle locked inside.

"What is it?" she asked, closely examining the nondescript bug.

"You see those markings around the antennae?" Harry voiced with a sly smile.

Hermione's eyes widened, "You don't mean that this is-"

"Oh, but I do," he replied with an all out grin. He brought the jar to his eye level, "Rita Skeeter, I presume," he said, not asked, and the beetle becoming unnaturally still was all the answer he needed.


	59. Chapter 59

Anyone want a free copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire? Erm, no... I'm not J. K. Rowling who can donate it to lots of people, but I've just recieved it from someone and now I have two. Anybody doesn't have one?

* * *

Severus Snape was unconscious. Well, not entirely that, but he wasn't awake either. One could at most say that he was hovering in that place in between that is not dream.

As far as the brain was concerned, wizards knew of mind magic, but aside from that, they had nothing even remotely close to Psychology. Oh, they still took care of people who had their problems, but obviously, in totally different fashion.

In this case, stress is probably the best example, as wizards considered it to be simply a physical reaction of the body, and had nothing to do with the mind. For instance, Calming Draught, as the name clearly states it, is meant to calm a person, but the fashion it does it in – levelling the heart beat and blood pressure, steadying hormones production and limiting energy production in the muscles, which enables the body to fight of the harmful impulses like muscle spasms, eye twitches etc., without harming itself – clearly shows that in every single case, clearance of the mind is only a side effect of used medicine.

Of course, simple Calming Draught wouldn't cut it when a more serious trauma occurred, and for that, the body had to be even more relaxed for the harmful energy to simply dissipate without in any way storing itself inside the body.

That's why, after Snape's outburst, he was placed in a deep state of relaxation for his body to recuperate from the shock. But while his body was rendered useless, his mind, although dulled, was still busy at work, and he couldn't help but concentrate on the name that brought this upon him: Potter.

But in that state when his mind wasn't as focused on his target as in the real world, when thinking about something he had to check if he had remembered something right, Severus Snape had an epiphany.

Suddenly he remembered things as they were, just how he had treated Lily when they were kids, how later he was jealous of James, how his interaction with Marauders, and James especially, was not so one sided as he made himself believe, or how the last Potter was in fact not the exact copy of his father, but took even more from his mother than any other teacher could tell.

But that was just the start of it, as when he got done with his memories, he started wondering about all those what-if's that appeared before him. What if he hadn't insulted Lily? What if he dealt with his jealousy and accept sooner that she had chosen James? Would his life be any different now?

And that was what he thought about the most, creating scenario after scenario, world after world, where all was well, Lily was still alive and they were best of friends, even if he had to suffer her dating James, or his friends, who, when he thought about it, couldn't be that bad... They couldn't be if she chose to stay close, now could they?

Then he was woken up, and just like with any perfect image created in the dreaming, it vanished only seconds after him opening his eyes. But he couldn't forget it completely, and that feeling of having something so extraordinarily perfect and loosing it made him even more bitter than he was before.

Especially as the first thing that he saw after waking up, were news of Potter...

* * *

Rose Priming was having so much fun. She still couldn't believe that she was crying her eyes out, wanting to go home only after couple of hours in the castle. She might even have went back, if not for Harry telling her that life in the castle walls wasn't so bad after all.

No, he did something even more appealing, she thought in recollection. He introduced her to magical pranking.

She might not be very well versed in wand magic, but with her creativity in ingenuity, she could manage with whatever she had – not saying anything that she had learned from the best, with Twins adding an advice or two.

But she still wasn't anywhere near Harry's level, and it wasn't only about him being able to do spells wandlessly. Oh, no. He had much greater gift in being able to see things in between the lines, even when an average person thought there was nothing to see there, and with that, he was able to do anything he liked, without breaking any rules, or even without anyone knowing, if he only wished it.

She still couldn't get over his latest prank, or the fact that the rest of the world simply went on with their business, while the pun was staring them in the face...

* * *

George and Fred Weasley were content. At last they found a person who could, and would, proudly carry on their heritage. Well, they had found two, but since Harry didn't made jokes of anyone else than those who attacked him in one way or another, it was fortunate that Rose was availible. Well, having a friendly Slytherin wreaking havoc around the school was just too fun to pass.

That set of circumstances allowed them to start working on their own line of products they could sell in a shop they wished they would have in time, without leaving the castle without entertainment. Not saying anything that there was no better way of testing products that field tests, and Rose proved to be very helpful with that.

But as much as that was, they still missed the thrill of doing everything on their own, and taking pride in being the greatest pranksters Hogwart ever knew. Even that title was gone, as they sworn their allegiance and raised a toast to their new pranking lord, one Harry Potter, whenever they opened a newspaper...

* * *

Draco Malfoy was completely bewildered. He didn't understand just how it was possible for things to go so badly for him. He hadn't been able to forge his dominance in the house, like his father told him he should. In fact, lately it seemed that the usual backstage games Slytherins were masters off were no longer running in the common room, as whenever someone looked like he was about to go for the kill, a series of... "questionable" events happened to him, rendering him useless not only in the unofficial competition, but also in normal day-to-day life. He still shuddered every time he remembered what happened to Nott.

But it wasn't only that. Not only in the Slyherin dominion did his ploys go awry, but whenever he tried anything on the school grounds, someone would spoil his plan. Worst of it was that he couldn't say how it was done, since there was simply no trace after his "special" supplies were gone, or how was it possible that everything he did manage to make for someone else to fail, landed straight back into his lap.

Oh, he didn't knew how it was done, but he knew exactly who was doing it. Potter... and that stupid thing he was doing now with that reporter woman was only another proof that he was messing things up...

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was having difficulties in concentrating on the task at hand. If only Minerva would stop complaining about the students behaving strangely. What for her was a drawback, for him was an outright improvement.

Obviously, Slytherins weren't planing anything, but at last seeing the reason and coming back to the ways of the Light. Why else would there be no news about the struggle in that house?

Or, what if there were more pranks than in the previous years? Laughter was good for health and there was no big harm if couple of students suddenly changed their hair colours, turned into a big canary, got their hands switched or started talking backwards? If it would be something more harmful, then he might be concerned, but as it was, they were great help in training Constant Vigilance, as Alastor had pointed out.

And how was it a bad thing that Harry agreed to write some articles under the tutelage of Rita Skeeter? As far as the world was concerned, being a reporter was still valid occupation, and if Harry was set on following that road, who was he to deny him working with the best in the business like Rita was refereed to?

Albus sighed sadly, listening to Minerva going on and on about how things were running out of hand. If only she would have his experience she would know that things are always changing, and the only thing that one can do is to prepare for the future, see past our preferences and simply go with the flow, maybe only keeping some of our favourite things nearby.

Ah, as for the favourite things. If Minerva would stop, if only for a minute, maybe he would be able to at last find that pack of sherbet lemons he lost this morning...

* * *

Rita Skeeter was a bug, helplessly stuck in an unbreakable jar under complete control of that brat, Potter. Simply said, Rita was completely screwed, and nothing pained her so as the knowledge of that fact...

* * *

Harry had problems with understanding why people made such a fuss out of _this_. In the past he had made so much inappropriate, uncommon or plainly insane things, that everyone should have got used to it by now. But still, his latest hobby, for the lack of better word, had raised surprisingly many voices.

But in all of those talks he caught snippets off, one thing puzzled him the most: Why haven't anyone, after all this time, managed to uncover his act? He could spot hundreds of places where he had gone too far, wording which gave away just a little too much information or even outright jars that in the hindsight were just too much... Well, of course he had the full picture of the situation, so it was immensely easier for him, but still, he thought that from all that talking there would come some conclusions, and not that people just spoke to one another.

He shook his head, looked around the Great Hall, noticing those subtle glances cast his way that people thought to be inconspicuous, sighed and returned to his newspaper, skipping the "Reporter's Life by Harry Potter" column. Seeing as he wrote it, he already knew what was there, and it didn't had any purpose for him. Well, maybe just to bring a smile when he remembered how it all begun...

* * *

**Flashback**

Harry and Hermione haven't returned to the Ball, but hurried to the common room with the glass jar and it's contents hidden protectively. Hermione's mind was buzzing, but, even with the castle practically empty because of the ball, she wouldn't risk talking on the run. Only when they were safe in Harry's dormitory, did she ask:

"What are we going to do with her?"

"Oh, I have a certain idea," he said while looking around the room.

Hermione was anxious because of that response, and seeing his smug smile, her mind supplied multitude of _solutions_ for their current situation... None of them pleasing.

"You're not going to... you know?" she voiced in the end, even her tone strained.

Harry stopped whatever he was doing when he heard that, and gave her his full attention.

"Hermione, have I ever hurt anyone with whatever I've done?" he asked, but then stopped to think about something and added, "Well, anyone aside from Malfoy?"

That made her smile, because she knew perfectly well why Harry had attacked Malfoy then... because of her. But she stopped that thought when Harry finally found whatever he was looking for, and it appeared to be one of the feathers Hedwig lost on her last visit. Hermione's brow furrowed in thought, as she couldn't quite understand how it was useful in this kind of situation. Fortunately, Harry started explaining things without her needing to ask him.

"I've been thinking for a long time, how could one make a reporter understand just how wrong it is to write articles about them, without their formal consent. But now, I know exactly what's perfect for the occasion," he said, while he begun making a quill out of the feather he found. "Now, everyone know that she's a reporter, but many forget that she's a somewhat average citizen aswell. Tell me, Hermione, have you ever wondered what she's doing when she's off duty?" he asked her while wiggling his brows.

Hermione's eyes widened at that, because she finally understood what he was planing.

"You're going to write an article about her?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, I've been thinking about a series of articles covering more than just the first glance at her private life. You know, a complete look on the news behind the news," he responded, clearly already thinking of just what to include in them.

"But how are you going to do that? I mean, having her here means that she won't be able to write her own articles, and even if you write your own, what makes you so sure that anyone will print them?" she asked, looking curiously as Harry started sucking at the tip of the now ready-to-use quill.

He stopped shortly to respond, "Oh, but what makes you think that there won't be any more of her articles?" he asked, and got back to work, and Hermione stared in amazement when the snow-white colour begun disappearing, just like if Harry was sucking it out of the quill, leaving a strange, acid green colour after it. When the quill was at last entirely in that colour, Harry brought a clean piece of parchment, set the quill on it without even dipping it in ink, and spoke very calmly:

"A stupid bimbo Rita Skeeter, an old cow whose writing is worth even less than a used toilet paper..." he stopped, and waited for the result, because from the moment he begun speaking, the quill started zooming across the parchment. When it stopped, they took a glance at the writing which said:

_Attractive blonde Rita Skeeter, forty-three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations…_

"_Lovely_," Harry commented, and Hermione was scared just how much it sounded like Rita herself.

"So, all we need now is a letter stating that she gave me the oh-so-great honour of overseeing my developing writing skills," he said, bringing a new parchment and starting his dictation.

Hermione watched him at work, and even as she understood what he was doing, she sometimes, like now, had problems understanding where he was going. Strangely, him being such a riddle, was very appealing to her...

**End of flashback**

* * *

It was overly easy too, Harry though, setting his newspaper aside and pouring himself another cup of juice. The editor was ecstatic over the news that Harry Potter would be writing for them. Even when he didn't know if Harry was any good at writing, he went on and on just how many new readers would that fact bring. The man who usually made pictures for her had been assigned to another reporter, seeing as Harry could handle that easily.

But the greatest thing that came out of it, was that Harry was now able to come and go for even longer periods of time, because a single "He's working with Rita," would dismay some, and others would simply eagerly wait for the new edition.

Writing the news itself was no problem at all. Even on his own, Harry was able to go around unnoticed, seeing things people wanted to hide. But when you added Neville, Luna, Hermione, and most of all, Rose and the Twins... Well, if Hogwarts had twenty-four-hour surveillance, it wouldn't work any better than they did.

But of course, writing wasn't the only thing that he occupied himself with.

* * *

It was January, and the weather wasn't anyone would wish for, with cold and damp air sucking the heat out of anything. Still, that didn't stop a pack of friends from continuing their picnic tradition. Other students stared in amazement at people dressed lightly, sunbathing in the sun-rays that were barely there. But the most intriguing was as always Harry Potter himself, laying on an air mattress anchored some way off the shore.

If anyone would dare to ask what was he doing, they would get always the same answer:

"Oh, but can't you see that he's training for the next task?" Luna would reply in her eternally cheery voice.

Sight of Harry sleeping on his mattress with one hand in the water didn't give that story much credit. Of course, no one had caught that Harry wasn't sleeping at all, and only the Giant Squid could marvel at the sand-castles that Magie was building at the bottom of the lake.

* * *

The day of the second task came quickly, and in no time at all, the whole school was once again gathered in the stands, now overlooking the Black Lake. Well, not everyone, as there were people missing, and before Harry had to leave the castle himself, he did a quick scan of the Marauder's Map, just to make sure that Hermione was in fact taken as a hostage, and not in any other kind of trouble.

As it was, he was standing on a small pier, looking out of place in his usual clothes standing next to the other champions who were all dressed in swimming suits. But he didn't care too much about the odd stared he was getting, as he had to focus on the task at hand.

When the whistle signalled the start of the task, the three champions quickly rushed to the water – but Harry remained where he was. When the others vanished under the surface, Harry sighed, and turned back, making his way to the shore. That immediately silenced the crowd who was cheering for their favourites, and now every eye was upon him, watching his every move.

Harry slowly made his way back, and when he reached the shore, he retrieved a stash of supplies he had left there before and started changing. When he got back on the pier, he was no longer wearing his normal school robes, but what muggle-borns spotted to be the usual combination one would wear for a fishing trip – complete with the hat full of different hooks and lures.

He sat at the end of the pier, setting the picnic basket he was carrying at his side, and drew his fishing-rod that was nothing else than the Gryffindor's Sword with provisionally attached spinning wheel. Though, before he could cast, the judges were upon him.

"Could I ask what are you doing, Mr. Potter?" Crouch asked even as he was some distance away.

"Well, I was about to save my hostage, but now I'm talking with you. Why do you ask?" he replied, somewhat annoyed that he couldn't get this over with straight away.

"But why are you using all those items again? And why aren't you getting in the water? The rules-" Crouch begun his rant, but Harry had enough of it.

"Mr. Crouch, I was meant to prepare for the task, and as you can see, I've came prepared," Harry snapped, pointing to his things, the picnic basket most of all, "So, you can't take them away as they're part of my preparations. As for not getting in the water, you stated during the first task, that the clue in the egg would explain it all, and there would be no misunderstandings. As I see it, I have one hour to rescue a hostage from the bottom of the lake, a time which you are currently wasting, thank you very much. But could you so kindly show me the part of that poem of yours which states that I have to get in the water myself?" Harry finished and waited patiently, looking at the man who was looking through the rules book. Finally, Crouch gave up and shook his head tiredly.

"Then good day to you, and if you wish for me to abide the rules, I would like to know them first. It would be so much easier to do so if I would have a copy of them before the third task," he stated, and without sparing another glance returned to his spot at the end of the pier, finally making his cast with his fishing-rod

Harry wasn't just being mean because he had such opportunity, but in this one, he couldn't let them take away the sword. He long ago noticed that magic was based on energy. What kind of energy, he still wasn't sure, but during his earlier training near the lake, he noticed that water did not only suck it out of his body like it did with heat, but also dispersed the energy to a degree, the more the greater distance it had to travel in that environment, an effect closely reminding him of lightning-bolt hitting the ocean.

That's why he wasn't too keen on entering the water, risking that he would have to spend another month without Magie. But aside from that, he needed that extra boost of energy from the sword, for Magie to be able to perform her task. It was fortunate enough that he managed to talk the Twins to spare him all of the experimental cord they were about to use in their new product which they called Extendable Ears. It was a perfect way to send energy over long distances without loosing too much of it in the transit, but still, it was only going to get him so far.

Even as an average wizard wasn't able to cast wandlessly, there was still a small charge of energy around his body, something like a static charge on a sweater, that was enough to let them operate with charmed items. Because what many people didn't realise was that such an item was nothing more than a vessel for set of charms which were, almost entirely, propelled by intent.

Taking for instance already mentioned Extendable Ears. The idea was quite simple, to let people hear over long distances without the need to cast any charms. The design was nothing more than the magical equivalent of two cups and as string telephone. But to make it work, there had to be another layer of spells, which would carry that small impulse with the intent of receiving sounds from someone's ear to the trinket on the other end, with the information what the trinket said back to the ear.

Harry was trying to do something similar, but over half a mile distance, and not with a simple hearing-enhancing spell, but with Magie herself. Because right at that moment, when everyone looked in amazement as Harry Potter seemed to be dozing off on the pier, she was zooming at a high speed under the surface of the lake, in the search of Hermione. If she had ever before wondered how it would be like to be a fish, now she knew, stuck in the artificial body of a lure.

Reaching her destination, she used a little more of the energy to snap the bonds off of Hermione's body, and while she was floating softly to the bottom, Magie wrapped the cord around her securely, after which she gave Harry a friendly tug as a signal to reel them in.

Harry didn't waste a second before he did just that, and everyone watched in amazement as from the black water, a silhouette appeared, and when it broke the surface nor far from him, everyone's jaws dropped to see that it was in fact Hermione Granger who he had caught – set of words that Luna found immensely fitting and funny at the same time.

Hermione snapped out of her magic induced sleep, took a second to see where she was, and then, beaming, accepted Harry's help in getting back on pier. When she was sitting beside him, he took a blanket out of his picnic basket, and while she draped it around herself, he also took out a thermos with a steaming hot tea, and after pouring two cups, he handed one to her with an additional sandwich.

The crowd was beside of itself, seeing that in the middle of the second task, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had so casually made themselves a picnic on the side of the lake.

But the pair didn't mind the stares much, slowly eating their sandwiches and drinking tea, with her head on his shoulder and his hand rubbing her back to get some more warmth into her body.

It wasn't long though, when the idyllic moment was broken by Fleur breaking the surface of the water, coughing and spluttering. Immediately, she was brought on shore, but that didn't stop her from breaking down and crying her eyes out after her little sister still stuck on the bottom of the lake.

Harry turned to Hermione, but she even without needing him to ask her, smiled lightly and nodded, at which he once again set his fishing-rod to work. When not more than five minutes later Gabrielle was safely on shore again, Fleur was torn between hugging her, making sure she was alright, and thanking Harry for what he had done.

Harry didn't respond to any of this, simply passing her couple of sandwiches and a blanket for her sister, followed by some tea.

That stopped Fleur for a minute, before she started crying again. It was strange how fate worked, she thought, with tears streaming down her face accompanied by her soft laughter, because here she was, one moment competing in the Tri-wizard Tournament, dreading the loss of her sister, and in the next, sitting with Gabrielle in safety, and eating sandwiches with their new friends.

Friends? Yes, Harry was a friend, she thought, because he couldn't be less than that, and finally she knew what was so appealing in him, that even her own sister had accepted him from the start. It seemed as if he was content whenever people around him were happy, and he didn't care who she was, who were her parents, even how she looked like – which surprisingly lifted more of her chest that she would ever admit. And seeing him that way, he couldn't have bad people as friends, so immediately she gained at least another one.

Fleur smiled. A genuine, unhindered by any doubts smile. And while wiping the tears from her eyes, she could only laugh at her sister, swinging her legs from the pier, draped in a fluffy blanket and munching on her sandwich like nothing ever happened.

It was now four people that didn't care for the entire crowd, gaping at what was happening.


	60. Chapter 60

Guess what! Everything still belongs to J. K. Rowling. Surprise, surprise, right?

* * *

The Daily Prophet, like the name itself stated, came out daily, but Harry was becoming bored with maintaining both, his and Rita's persona's. It seemed that the enchanted pen he created could write stories all by itself, given that he described the main gist of the event. If the original pen that Rita probably still carried in her bag, which at that point was tied to her beetle form, had such an option, it was no surprise that she had up to no respect for correctness of her stories.

On the other hand, his corner was about how she managed to get all those fantastic stories. Since the news "Rita" was describing were as true as the fact that she was writing them herself, he was free to write whatever he liked – from a story how she tracked a facts one after the other, playing a private detective, to the point where she was in the middle of the events, with him right by her side...

But it was all boring, since it was only a way for the world to get used to him being so public all of a sudden. The truth was that it all was just a prelude, a prologue to the greatest, most detailed, and surely the most truthful news magical world had ever seen.

* * *

_**Rita Skeeter Says Enough!**_

_**By Harry Potter**_

_My faithful readers, it is my sad duty to relate that Rita Skeeter had had enough of the life of a reporter, and is now cut off entirely from the external world. I had some assumptions that she was not well, especially because of the scandal which she uncovered and which was described extensively not even a week before this very day. But I hadn't known that it might come to this._

_As always, I came to her house to discuss in detail the case we would be following, but I found closed doors instead. When I tried to talk to her, only response I got was a threathening buzz I could hear clearly through the walls of her asylum. But it hardly gave her rest, as all she did all day was to bounce off the walls of her little haven. I was sure that she is well, as once in a while I was able to catch a sight of her through the glass, as she was zooming from one side to the other..._

* * *

Even with a single one of those, his corner was immediately moved to the first page. It was all the things that readers loved, he read from the letter the editor sent to him, the drama, tragedy, celebrity... all in one package.

Harry couldn't believe his luck when he read that the house of Rita Skeeter was put under Fidelius Char – for safety reasons – and he himself might be the only person who knows the secret. Of course, he had a story why Rita wasn't in her real home, and how it wouldn't be wise to storm there right away. But now he had a public approval, or more than that, a demand tied with a duty to relate the news of her well-being.

Well, if people demanded it, then he was bound to tell them all about the life of Rita the Bug, living in a glass jar...

* * *

There were many opinions about Mad-Eyed Moody and his teaching methods. Most common being that he was insane and each lesson was a threat to your personal well-being, and anyone nearby. Others thought the same, but with varying amounts of fear and resentment.

But like always, Harry wasn't thinking along the usual lines, and was probably the only student that thought that DADA this year was exceptional. Not only that, but he considered this to be the very best year of that subject he might ever experience.

Of course, Hermione immediately scoffed at that statement when he responded to her question truthfully, immediately pointing to Remus as the most knowledgeable professor. Harry conceded that it was true, yet couldn't stop himself from commenting that it was true when it came to theoretical knowledge. But, even when Moody couldn't perfectly describe everything that happened when particular spell was used, his classes were still something else. And that was because of one simple fact, or one simple truth to be exact, which Moody placed above anything else: Everything goes.

He used his "Constant Vigilance" to describe it, but it was just a figure of speech under which was a much greater truth. That at any time, in any place, there might come an attack in a form which one can't possibly fathom. Harry understood it the very first moment he saw the man, but, while his peers started gossiping about the man, he was more interested in why such a paranoid person was still considered Light wizard, and why haven't he ever harmed an innocent, even if only because of his paranoia.

At some point, Harry simply caught on to the rule that Moody was following. He was a prime example of a Light wizard, because he never have had stepped across the line. Now, how he had constructed the line, that was another matter.

People repeat the golden rule which states "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you". But Moody, he followed it's reversed version. Simply said, if a person treated another in one way or another, then surely they saw it as perfectly normal thing to do, and there was nothing wrong with doing the same to them.

It wasn't the type of logic an average person would use, but the most important thing was that it worked. It gave Moody solace in a life stretched between standing face to face with the worst of human kind, and teaching a class full of children which had not yet picked their path.

True that he couldn't be as normal as any other person, with his constant bad feeling about one thing or another, and becouse of that drilling his students like the world was about to end. But in this instance, Harry was set on looking on the brighter side of things, which was tha Moody could have ended even more twisted than the usual laughter at someone's misfortune, which could be taken as an usual sense of humour.

"Seriously?" Moody exclaimed after another person failed his hex-deflection test, "No one can stay on their feet even with curses flying at such a pedestrian speed?" he commented, watching a class full of people massaging sore spots on their body, then turned to one person in particular.

"Potter, I guess you're the last man up," he said while Harry was already standing to take his place.

Even if tired, everyone perked up at this. It was usual by now, even a sort of pass time in DADA class, watching as Moody and Harry were fighting each other, trying to win before the bell rang. Though, you could hardly say it was a fight, as it seemed more as if they were playing cat-and-mouse against each other. Trouble was to say who was the cat and who was the mouse, as Moody's experience served him well, but Harry's ingenuity, creativity and ability to think on his feet kept him on par with the older wizard.

"But it's not fair!" whined someone from the crowd, and Moody immediately turned to him.

"What's your problem this time, Malfoy?" he growled back.

"Potter had all this time to prepare and get used to how you attack. How is it fair?" he snapped, and for once, Harry had to say that he had a point.

Moody was thinking the same thing, and after quickly thinking about it, "Then you do it," he announced. Everyone blinked at that, and even Malfoy was dumbfound for a little while.

"M-me?" he stammered.

"Yeah, you. I'm giving you a one time pass to curse the crap out of Potter," he stated, then turned to Harry, "Of course, I assume you're OK with this?"

Harry glanced once at Malfoy, smiled slightly and shrugged, signifying that it was all the same for him.

Meanwhile, Draco had a hard time deciding, looking around at all the Slytherins, looking at him in a way that clearly said he didn't had any vote if he did it or not. He had to do it. It took too long for Moody, and catching his gaze, he couldn't help but to comment.

"What now? You need your friends to back you up?" he snorted and shook his head, "Fine, take those two idiots that always follow you," at Dracos startled gaze, Moody sneered more, and proceeded to taunt him more, "What? Not good enough? How many do you need then? Five? Ten?" he turned to Harry again, "What do you think Potter?"

"Maybe all of them?" he proposed casually, and it immediately silenced the class that was getting louder with whispers at what was happening. Even Moody seemed to be slightly surprised at that, but as he watched Harry casually looking around the room, he caught along, and smiled his twisted smile.

"Fine. Anyone who want to curse Potter, step right up,"

Immediately, nearly everyone from Slytherin stood up, and Harry made sure to remember those who remained sitting, observing everything very carefully. More surprising was that some of the Ravenclaws stood up as well. Harry doubted that it was from any form of hate towards him. But if not that, he was astonished that he was considered so advanced, that an average Ravenclaw would like to have a first hand experience simply to learn something.

"Take your places," Moody growled at the small crowd that gathered on the front of the class.

While they moved to form a ring around Harry who remained at the front, Moody removed the furniture, leaving not so small arena, and waded off the rest of the class where the desks stood.

"Just like before, rules are simple. Only minor jinxes. When the person is hit, they're out. There will be _no_ misbehaviour, or else you will find yourself at my mercy." Moody said with emphasis, while swirling his magical eyeball to show that he will be watching carefully.

"On the count of three," Moody begun, with everyone taking duelling stances, their wands pointed at Harry who simply swept his gaze to take in the whole situation he was in. "One," some people from the ring exchanged glances. "Two," Harry closed his eyes, taking in a calming breath, and smiled slightly when he felt Magie's back leaning into his own. It was good to know she was there, even when he wouldn't need her help to do this. "Three,"

In the very moment that Moody's gruff voice sounded, Harry dropped to the ground and rolled to the side, with a volley of spells crossing the place where his body was moments ago, and striking people on the other side of the ring, who, due to limited space, were unable to dodge. Those who were fast enough to cast a shield simply made the spell directed their way ricochet into a person some way from them.

Everyone in the class, even the people who were meant to cast spells, stopped at the sight of two thirds of the original crowd fallen to the ground in but a split second. But that was just the thing Harry expected to happen, and by the time casters regained their composure, he was already outside the initial ring, having everyone in front of him, instead of around him, and he couldn't help but smile at the new barage of spells.

Slytherin taught him well, drilling into his body how it should behave on it's own during the battle, without much need from him to tell it how to move. But the thing he couldn't help but recall in this kind of situation, was the conversation he had right after he had beaten Salazar for the very first time.

_"Good, now you know how to fight a wandless mage," Slytherin commented, picking himself from the ground, "But that hardly means that your training is done!" he snapped seeing Harry's smug smile._

_"You say wandless mage, but what about wand magic?" he asked, not minding the chiding too much. At his question, Salazar chuckled darkly._

_"When it's long range combat, it's just the same as with the wandless fight, only easier, since your opponent is kind enough to light up the space where something is about to happen,"_

_"And if it's close quarters?" he asked, and immediately Slytherin's face became disturbingly menacing._

_"Then you must mind one and only one thing," at Harry's questioning look, he finished the thought, "Wands can be pointed only in one direction"._

Harry couldn't help but smile, because it was just too easy to bat someone's wand-hand aside, just in the moment when they were uttering the last sound of the spell, making the ball of light to strike someone nearby. Or while making a too-obvious-to-be-true dodge, place himself in such a spot, that a person who would be anticipating his movements would only after the spell was well on its way notice, that they've just took out one of their own. Harry even managed to make his way through their makeshift formation once, taking out another portion of the group in way similar to the one at the very beginning.

In no time at all, the group dwindled down to only couple of people who attempted some kind of teamwork. But by that time, they were too distressed with what they've just seen for their attacks to be even remotely close to where Harry was. But he was kind enough to help them with aiming, taking out a person on one side with someone's wand, letting that person to be struck by the spells coming from the others, and immediately going to the one on the other side, simply to replay the scenario.

The last person to stand in front of Harry was Malfoy, but simply because he backed into a corner, far away from the rest that was now lying on the ground, moaning because of their own spells. Seeing the situation he found himself in, Draco shakingly stepped forward, his wand held stiffly, trailed at Harry who was standing in the place he had started in, just as calm as before.

"Don't come any closer," Malfoy warned, clearly forgetting that he was the one who was meant to attack.

"Okay," Harry said simply. That stopped Draco in his tracks.

"W-What do you mean, okay?" he asked, uncertain if he even wanted to know the answer.

"It does me no good, coming closer to you," Harry replied, making a step to the side, watching his step to not to stumble on people still lying on the ground.

"Don't move!" the Slytherin shouted, even when, unconsciously, he made one step himself.

"Don't come any closer and now don't move," Harry said, making another one, watching Draco do one more himself, "So, which will it be then?"

"Neither one! I mean both! I mean... SHUT UP!" Malfoy shouted, sending a curse his way immediately after.

Harry quickly jumped aside, letting the spell fly by, and striking a tied rope right behind him. Draco, who was about to send another curse at his enemy had enough time to notice a quiet groan, the rope that quickly disappeared upwards, and trailing with his gaze when it had went, he met one of the chandeliers in the room face to face.

"You done yet?" Moody's gruff voice broke the silence that descended when everyone except Harry were on the ground. Only then he reminding himself that he was in a classroom with others watching, and he looked at the unbelieving faces of his peers, then, turning to his teacher, simply shrugged like nothing big have had happened.

"Well then, what can we learn from such a splendid performance?" Moody asked, making his way, not so carefully, among the fallen students to the front of the class.

Harry could name many answers to such a question. That one should always mind his surroundings, use enemies weapons against him, be prepared for anything and everything that might come, and many more things came to his mind. In the end though, he smiled slightly and said: "Constant vigilance," giving Moody a good chuckle, when a series of audible groans came as a response from the people on the floor.

* * *

The next day, due to pretty much every Slytherin from their year taking part in the "presentation" the previous day, Potions were a rather deserted classroom. As much as other teachers complained, technically, there was nothing wrong with the event. People taking part were all volunteers, Harry himself haven't cast a single spell, and if they truly would like to punish him, the only reason logical enough would be that he was able to accomplish his task of staying unharmed.

If only negotiating would be as easy with Hermione. She screamed at him and ranted about his excesses right after the DADA class, and when she finished, she stormed off without hearing one word of his. Neville only commented that she almost bit her fingers off, and he had to hold her still couple of times, while Harry had his, like she named it, "fun".

It was probably the first time he saw her that angry. No, he corrected himself. It was the first time he saw her that angry at him. In the hindsight, on more than only this occasion, the things he did might seem a little dangerous. But he thought his friends knew him well enough to be sure that he wouldn't do anything that he wasn't sure about.

He tried to talk to her, but she managed to get away from him, and he wasn't even sure how. He might always get the Marauders map from Rose who was at the moment using it to wreak as much havoc as was healthy, but he thought it a little insensitive to corner his friend like that.

It wasn't until they were in the Potions class, with nearly half of the class absent, Snape like always sulking at his desk and daring anyone to disturb him, that he risked trying to talk to her about at her at least hearing him out.

"Hermione, I know you're upset because of yesterday," he whispered, still continuing his work, but noticing that she stopped cutting her ingredients. "I might even promised to you that I wouldn't do anything dangerous, but it was all under control," he continued, and she closed her eyes and heaved a deep sigh.

"Harry..." she whispered, but he was too involved in the fact that she was listening at all.

"I mean, it ended fine, haven't it? No matter how bad it looked like," he continued.

"Harry," she tried again, but to no avail.

"And if anything happened, it wasn't as if I were totally alone, right?" he kept on rambling.

"It's my fault," she said, not bothering any more if he heard or not.

"Of course, you're absolutely right tha-" he cut short, only now realising to what he was agreeing. "W-what?" he asked, looking at her incredulously.

"I said that it's me, and not you," she said, heaving another sigh.

Harry had an idea to comment that that phrase was quite often an introduction to a breakup, but wisely bit his tongue and listened closely to what the girl was saying.

"I mean, yes, I was scared, but that wasn't the main reason why I had as bad mood as I had, or the fact that I haven't been talking to you..." she left it hanging, biting her lower lip in that distinctive way which meant she wasn't sure about something. Still, Harry stayed quiet, giving her as much time as she needed.

"What I'm saying here is," she finally started again, "I think I'm jealous of you," she whispered, and watched him cautiously, waiting for his response.

For the first time in his life Harry experienced a feeling when his mind was working at such a speed that it seemed to be blank. Or maybe it was the other way around, being too blank to bear any thought. In the end, from all the words he had at his disposal, he developed: "What?" while staring at her like she had grown antlers since the last time he saw her.

"I know, I know," she said, clearly anxious for them both, "I'm always trying to do everything spot on, but with you nearby it's impossible. You're always finding an ever better way to do things. Like with Magie. You've... _known_ her all this time, and I feel like I'm back in the kinder garden. Or the thing you did yesterday. Yes, it was dangerous, but I don't know how... I couldn't do that! And it's just one thing that I can't-" it was her time to ramble, but Harry heard enough.

"It doesn't matter," he cut her short, and she stared at him, wide-eyed. "Is philosophy, physics, medicine, history and many more subjects in the muggle world interesting?" he asked, and could see her calming down rapidly, being placed in front of a new puzzle.

"Well, yes, of course," she replied with a nod.

"Then why aren't you trying to study them in detail at a university?"

"Don't be daft, Harry," she snapped, "We're learning magic here-" whatever she wanted to say next, she didn't have the opportunity.

"It isn't about magic, Hermione," Harry stated, and she stopped, not knowing what he meant, "If you break it down to basics, you're here because you can learn here something even more exciting than what you were learning before," he said, and she couldn't help but nod slightly.

"That's the main point. You learn what intrigues, fascinates and excites you. The problem is, that you find too many things interesting," he said smiling slightly at her blush visible even in the dimly lit dungeon. "Average person wouldn't bother, but you instantly think of not knowing something as a failure. But you can't measure yourself by someone else's knowledge. I know you don't do that with professors, but you clearly set their knowledge as a goal. But you do that with your peers, and not simply one, but all of them. You combine every person your age into one, and try to beat them at every challenge," he stated while shaking his head.

"I tell you now, the fact that you challenge yourself to do even better, is good. But the point is, you should challenge yourself, and not compete against someone who isn't even aware of the fact. Challenge yourself, and do things faster, better or more efficiently, because that's what matters. The growth rate of your knowledge. And I can promise you that the way you devour information in is unparalleled, and we all should be jealous of that," he said whith a smile.

She ducked her head at the praise, but still, she wasn't overly confident about what Harry was saying.

"But it won't be enough. There is so much to learn..."

"It will be enough. When you learn only the things you feel like to, you learn them faster and better. And when you know couple of topics well, other things come on their own, since you've read about them already, while learning something else. You mentioned Magie, but with her it was the same thing. I've read some things, but we haven't done anything we didn't feel like, doing something that seemed fun at the moment instead. That's how I got where I'm not," he finished, but got a better idea. "What do you feel strongly about now?" he asked, and she watched him, again biting her lower lip in that distinctive way. "Okay then. Just tell me what you would like to learn next,"

"Well," she started with a slight smile, "you could always show us how to dodge like you did yesterday,"

He smiled back, "Yeah, we could always do that,"

"Then I guess I won't need this any more," she whispered, taking out of her bag a slightly worn out piece of parchment, and giving it back to Harry.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, making sure that he was holding what he thought it to be.

"I borrowed it from Rose," Hermione admitted sheepishly. "I wanted to think things through before I was about to speak to you. You're not angry, are you?"

"At you? No, I'm not. But the next time I meet Rose-" he stopped as the door to the dungeon opened, and Karkaroff entered. The man moved swiftly, and when he made it to the teachers desk, he begun speaking quietly with Snape. After a quick conversation, he hovered behind Snape, clearly waiting for the end of the lesson.

Harry caught Neville's attention, thinking that since the boy was sitting considerably closer to the desk, that he might have heard something, but Neville simply shook his head, giving the answer without the need to voice the question.

'I spy with my little eye,' he heard, and turned to see Magie in a Pirate costume with something that looked more like a telescope than a simple spyglass. Harry followed her gaze, and noticed how Karkaroff kept rubbing, ever so slightly, his left forearm.

'What do you see?'

'A black hole,' she said, lowering her spyglass, and scratching her head.

'A black hole?' he repeated, and kept thinking why she was dressed like that, but thought he might ask about that later.

'That's what it looks like. Like a black hole in his forearm. It's small, but I can see it growing. The strange thing is, your oh-so-gracious Potion Master has the same thing,' she said, once again observing through her spyglass.

Harry's mind was racing. What could a black-hole represent in Magie's strange world? Then he corrected himself, that it was his world too, and in the end, there were two black-holes...

His eyes widened. 'A wormhole,' he said to her, and at her questioning look, 'Not a simple hole, but a connection. Since Karkaroff is here, set on talking to Snape, I can only ask: Connection to what?'

He turned back to Hermione, knowing full well that she was observing him, waiting to ask what was the matter.

"Our sparing session will have to wait," he said, and her face fell, "We have some research to do," he announced, and grinned at the way she immediately perked up.

* * *

AN. I know it's a bit late into the story, but I've just noticed that even if I'm following the book, I'm using some details from the movies, like all houses having DADA together.


	61. Chapter 61

Of course, I understand that my word alone might not be enough for you to believe that I'm not J. K. Rowling. But on the other hand, I'm not really keen on naming arguments to prove a well known fact, so, you must do your research on your own.

* * *

The entire group delved into research, but by now, studying was for them such a well known task that they didn't merely look for the answer, but learned the entire topic of magical connections like it was another topic in school, with them, as always, looking at every aspect of it. What was so different from other times they did this, was that they weren't following Hermione's precise schedules, but did it Harry's way instead – and even she was surprised at how much they accomplished that way.

Harry's method was something Hermione thought she would never be able to live with before – chaos. But in this, she followed nevertheless, because like with everything he did, there was a pattern somewhere in the insanity.

Harry haven't told them to when the work had to be done. Not even what kind of material was meaningful to them. All he did was to tell them, after explaining the situation, that they were going to be studying bonds, connections, and anything that fits, even somewhat closely, the definition of the above. Then they set to work.

At first, Hermione was scared she might loose her fingers, the way her nerves made her bite her fingernails. With everyone picking totally different sections, according to their liking, and no rule to their noting, she was sure that it all was a complete waste of time.

Then they begun talking with each other. Not really that, but there came a point where someone grabbed a book which was borderline with their main topic of interest, and there were parts that they couldn't understand. Immediately, someone who had studied that material, since it was clearly described somewhere in the book they had grabbed before.

Seeing that happening day after day, she noticed the pattern. It was like a spider-web, with their main topics being the main links, and them simply helping each other bridge the gaps between those. It wasn't even that, she corrected herself, as a spider-web is too schematical in it's pattern. It was more like playing Connect-the-dots, but with everyone drawing lines between points at the same time.

If she would like to schedule something like that, it would be a complete nightmare. But here she saw it work day after day, with work moving swiftly when everyone studied their favourite look on the subject, and slowing down only for an instant when someone got stuck, but with at least one person who studied the subject before being there to simplify things a bit, it moved along smoothly.

In the end, when all the talks and explanations were done, everyone in the group knew everything about the topic, with many side topics which her detailed schedules wouldn't be able to include, getting drawn in as well. That, in it's own was enough for her to make her think, but what baffled her to no end was when Harry explained that planning and improvisation wasn't so far aside...

"When you plan things, you have a clear vision of what you want to achieve, you have everything prepared and set, and the only thing you have to do is to see things through. But here comes the problem, as the world doesn't always, or rather never, work exactly as you would like it to. That's when your plan is tested to the limits, and more often than not you have to patch it against the unexpected events, if not change it at all. That means you have to add new things, making you waste time to acquire them, while you already wasted some to prepare things that now are useless,

"Improvisation on the other hand doesn't have problem with unexpected, since everything you do is created with anything and everything you have at hand at that exact moment. It means that you don't have to waste an ounce of time to prepare anything, having all that time to work on the important things. But here is the problem again. With many seemingly unrelated things at your hands, it is hard to tie them all together, while still maintaining the original thought in the middle of it all,

"What I mean when I say that the two aren't that far away from each other, is that in the end, you never get exactly what you want, with all those mistakes or inaccuracies at pretty much every step... Those two are only two sides of one coin, and the only indication which is better to use is how closely you can end to your original intention. While studying... I prefer improvising and learning many things, since all of it, at one point or the other, might prove to be useful. Going by schedules is simply setting boundaries and robbing yourself from the pleasure of learning what interests you truly,"

With anyone else, she might be upset for discarding her way of doing things. Not with him though, since she could clearly see the results.

In the end, they haven't found the answer to the mysterious signs of magic Magie related to them. It wasn't like they haven't learned anything which could be useful to unravel this mystery. It was the other way around, with them knowing too many ways to achieve that for them to be entirely sure which one was it.

But while they were having their fun in the library, none of them, not even Harry, noticed how fast time was passing in the real world.

* * *

At the end of May, the champions were all called to the Quidditch pitch, to discuss the third task of the Tri-wizard tournament. But while Bagman chattered about the final task, Harry noticed two things. One, that the other champions minds weren't really on the task. Fleur was looking at him with a slight smile. Her attitude toward him had changed completely since he had saved her sister from the lake, and he wondered if, with such a great difference in points, she wasn't silently cheering for him to win it instead of her. Krum was watching him too, but from his expression Harry could tell that he wasn't thinking of anything as pleasant as the French girl.

The only one watching the growing hedges was Cedric, but he was probably too horrified with such a great tragedy befalling the Quidditch pitch to notice one important fact about the new set-up. That was the other thing Harry noticed, and he couldn't help but smile slightly at the laziness of the modern wizards. The meeting came to an end, but when Harry tried to go back to the castle, he was stopped by:

"Harry Potter, may I have a word with you?" a heavily accented English reached his ears, and when he turned, he noticed Victor watching him expectantly.

He thought about it quickly, but in the end, "Yeah, sure," he replied, and seeing that there was no one nearby, simply came back to the spot near the growing hedges. Victor scowled slightly at that which Harry noticed, and couldn't help but ask. "Is something the matter?"

"You were talking about not being stupid before the first task, and yet you agreed so quickly to meet with your opponent with no one else nearby..." he left it hanging, clearly pointing to the difference between Harry's words and the way he was acting, which made him smile.

"I'm not being stupid. Well, it's not like I know everything, but my educated guess leaves me at ease that you wouldn't try anything to take me out before the tournament."

Krum scowled a little, but haven't said a word, simply waiting for an explanation of that fact.

"Well, if you take only the Quidditch World Cup, and the way you played that day. Even when your team was loosing, you weren't ridiculing the other team. You kept to the task, and catching that snitch, at least to me, was a clear statement along the lines, "If I have to go, I'll go on my own terms and not simply wait here for the end". Some may say that you were boasting just how good you are, and that the rest of the team wasn't important to you. But I say that it takes a lot of character to see that the opponent is far better, and the only way to still win, is to loose with class. There is no honour in taking me here and now, so I'm not worried you might try something else," Harry finished with a shrug.

"And you're so sure of it all simply because of one evening?" Krum challenged his word.

"It's not that. I gave that only as an example. But aside of that, there are all those details, like... You don't give a damn about how many fans run around after you. It doesn't mean anything, since the only opinion of weather you lost or won that counts is your own, right?" a thoughtful frown that appeared on Victor's face was enough of a hint for Harry to know that he got that one spot on.

"But what about the news that Durmstrang teaches Dark Arts? Many of your friends gossip about that. Aren't you concerned?" Krum returned to the "offensive".

"I'll tell you what. Let's go and ask ten random people if they know at least five ways you can kill a man in. No Dark Arts but simple things like hanging, beheading, drowning a man... I guess we don't have to, since everyone can do that. But even as they know how the act progresses, they're not raging psychopaths as long as they don't make a habit of doing one of the above every Sunday," Harry shook his head, as it wasn't one of his best examples. "What I'm saying here," he picked on again, "is that even while some people know disturbing things, it's more to the way how they use it. Like medics, who could seriously mess with your body if they wanted to, but they use their knowledge to save lives instead. Like I said, it's more to the person you are, since I'm not concerned about talking to you in private, but I'd rather not turn my back at your Headmaster – of course, no offence... But I guess it wasn't your intention to talk with me about that, was it?"

That question made Krum to change his mood to a firmer one, and Harry didn't knew why he suddenly felt like one of two animals fighting over territory.

"What is there between you and Hermy-own-ninny?" he asked, glowering.

"Oh," Harry said with a slight smile, catching on to the direction the conversation turned to, finally able to disregard the tension in the air. "You're asking the wrong should be asking what is there between Hermione and me. And even then, you would need to ask her about that,"

The scowl returned to Victor's face, "I don't understand. It's the same thing," he snapped, slightly angry at the way Harry responded to his question.

"No, it isn't. What I might feel to her, can be entirely different thing she feels towards me. And since she isn't my possession, and I don't have any power over her, it is her choice what she does in her life. If you see it like that, my opinion doesn't count at all, if she doesn't think I'm anyone special," Harry replied with a helpless shrug, not knowing how to explain it any better.

"But the newspaper-" Krum started, a little irate at the uncomfortable situation, which was clearly his doing.

"Prints different things, and one never know if they're true or not. Well, as long as one doesn't check for himself," Harry finished for him.

"Then what are your intentions towards her?" Victor asked, taking the straightforward question as best option in this kind of situation.

Harry thought about it, then that slight smile of his once again returned to his face. "I just want for her to be happy," he stated simply.

"That's all?" Krum asked, once again wearing that thoughtful frown.

"Isn't it enough?" Harry asked and immediately continued, "I guess you could call me old school when it comes to the relationships and that sort of things, since I don't understand all this lust being taken as love or possessiveness, making people live with each other even when all they have for each other is indifference, since even all the anger have burnt out," he said while shaking his head, "If a person you truly care for is happier somewhere else, why not let them be there? I mean, don't decide for them, simply tell them you're okay with whatever they decide. In the end, having someone stay with you simply because they think there is no better place to be is a reward all in it's own, right?"

Krum looked in amazement at the young man in front of him, who at the very beginning of the Tournament was a mere child in his eyes. He took in all he heard this evening, and thought about what he saw of the boy throughout the entire year. In the end, he extended his had, and said:

"It will be a true honour to compete against you, Harry Potter,"

"Likewise," Harry replied while shaking the extended hand.

They went their own ways without another word, Victor thinking about his own way of looking at things, and Harry about the conversation he was going to have with Hermione, in which he would tell her all about the fact that she wasn't wrong in thinking that Victor followed her around...

* * *

The meeting on the Quidditch pitch reminded Harry about another thing he had to take care of, and since it was official, he excused himself from Divination – not that he had to ask very hard, with Professor Treawney being more than happy to let him be anywhere else than her classroom, with the way she "foresaw such a need would arise" – to take care of it.

But when he came to the gargoyle guarding Dumbledore's office and tried the password he remembered from the last time, he was denied access. Remembering that Headmaster usually set types of candy as his passwords, he had better idea than standing there and voicing every kind of sweets he knew.

Harry came closer to the gargoyle, touching it with one hand, being thankful that the guardian, probably because of the fact that there was no ill will in the act, have remained still. He swept his hand from the statue, noticing that he had succeed so far, since he could see a small glitter-like spots stuck to his hand. He correctly assumed that no one else except of him and couple of others could notice those. He began rubbing his hands together, while he mentally called Magie to his side.

When she appeared at his side, he extended his hand, on which laid a perfectly wrapped candy.

'Hey, thanks!' Magie exclaimed, quickly devouring the offered sweet.

'What does it tastes like?' Harry asked, smiling slightly at Magie, who, with her eyes closed, was enjoying the candy.

'Like a Cockroach Cluster,' she responded, not interrupting herself in her pleasure.

Harry chuckled slightly as he repeated the answer to the gargoyle, and moments later he was riding the rotating stairs leading to Headmaster's office. But when he entered the office itself, he found it absent of any other occupant than a certain phoenix which thrilled happily when it spotted Harry and Magie coming through the doors. While Magie took care of their avian friend, Harry went further and picked up a old battered hat.

'Hello, Seharol,' Harry greeted once he put it on his head, knowing full well how he reacted to being woken up abruptly.

'Ah, hello young master,' the hat responded in his mind.

'Young master?' Harry repeated, not knowing if he heard it right.

'You carry the will of at least on of the Founders with you. It's only proper for me to speak to you with respect,' Sorting Hat responded, and Harry only sighed. Having heard entire conversation between the hat an the aforementioned Founder, he knew he wouldn't change it no matter how hard he tried.

'I guess you wouldn't mind keeping me company while I wait for the Headmaster?'

'Of course not,' the hat responded, following with a mental sigh, 'But the Headmaster became restless recently over one thing or another,' it continued, giving Harry a mental nudge towards a shallow stone basin with odd carvings around the edge which was visible through not entirely closed cabinet doors.

'What is it?' Harry asked, coming closer to the basin, and marvelling at the strange substance inside – thoughts as he learned when Seharol begun a lecture about the Pensieves. So fascinated he was with the device, only a surprised squawk from Fawkes when Magie disappeared informed him of people coming in.

Just like the other time, Dumbledore stopped at the threshold, looking at Harry Potter, wearing the Sorting Hat, and inspecting another ancient artefact.

"I was just marvelling at your Pensieve, Professor," Harry said casually while he returned the hat to it's proper place.

"I can see that," Dumbledore said with a smile while finally coming inside. After him, entered Cornelius Fudge.

"Oh, Harry, my boy!" he exclaimed jovially upon noticing the youth in the office, "How's life?"

"Well enough, Minister," Harry replied with a nod, and couldn't miss that pompous pride which Fudge got out of the fact that such a "prominent" citizen knew exactly who he was.

"Albus," growled Moody, third and last person to come through the door, "Haven't you just changed the password to your office?"

"Why, indeed I did," Dumbledore agreed, turning to Harry with an obvious question.

"I guessed it, sir," Harry said with a slight smile.

"Well, that's certainly plausible," Headmaster said with a nod, pleased that everything was once again clear. In the same moment Moody rubbed his forehead at such a blatant show of not really caring that a primary defence to the most important office in the castle was breached so easily.

"Now, Harry, what can I do for you?" Albus asked, once again turning to the boy in question.

"Well, sir, as you know there were some complaints at how I handled the previous tasks," Harry said, and he could swear he thought that somewhere in between Moody's coughs he could make out a snicker, "And I've stated that I would like to see the rules before the third task, so there would be no more misunderstandings. As I haven't heard a thing about it, I've came to you, as one of the judges, to ask if there is anything being done in this case?"

"Ah, but of course," Dumbledore said, and with a flick of his wand, a very large tome came flying from one of the shelves. "This is your copy of the rules," Dumbledore said, pushing it across his desk for Harry to take. Harry on the other hand couldn't help but notice the layer of dust that managed to gather on the cover. "Of course, it doesn't have the full description of the event," Headmaster continued, "like, for obvious reasons, it lacks the details about what you will be facing, but it contains every rule a champion should follow to be unquestionable in his win. It is yours to keep until the end of the Tournament." he finished with a smile.

"And what about other champions?" Harry questioned, doubting that this was a copy made especially for him, seeing the fine ornamentation of the cover itself.

"Pardon?" Dumbledore asked, not catching what Harry was referring to.

"I was saying that if I get a copy, shouldn't other champions get one too?"

"Well, yes, yes," Albus murmured while stroking his beard, "You were the only one that asked, but I guess it's only fair that others have the same chance as well. I guess we will have to ask if they wish to study it..." he nodded with finality, then glanced at Harry again, "Is there something else?"

"No, sir. Thank you," he said with a smile, and, after a nod to the other gentlemen in the room, he left with the book firmly in hand.

He sighed, knowing that he would have to reschedule again the session he promised to Hermione. But looking at the old book he was carrying, he somehow knew that she wouldn't mind too much...

* * *

AN. I know that it's shorter than my usual update, but seriously, I don't know what else I could write about before the third task, And I want that one to be in it's own chapter. Lets say that this is the space for a, if needed, any future expansions. I don't know when the next chapter will be out, I would like to get it done as soon as possible, but I don't know if I'll manage tomorrow... and after that I will be somewhat busy. If not sooner, then as usual, somewhere around the weekend.


	62. Chapter 62

You know what? I think that it's not only J. K. Rowling I need to worry about while writing this things. I mean, the way Harry got through the maze was surely written by someone before. But since I'm not getting anything aside from fun while writing this, I guess it doesn't really matter.

* * *

Time went on quickly, with Harry studying the Tournament rules. There were more of them than he initially thought, and they were more complex than he anticipated. He got the idea why, when he got to the entry stating that "Champions shouldn't be using Founders relics" somewhere at the end of it all. He laughed out loud at the clear connection to him, and then he understood that the rules were self-updating, and as the time progressed, more and more rules were introduced to somewhat control the champions behaviour. Still, he got through it all just in time for the final task.

* * *

On the morning of the third task Harry was called with other champions to meet with their families. He was wondering who might that be, but the mystery was solved when, only couple of steps into the room, he was made to dodge a bucket of water placed over the doors. He glanced at the wet floor, then his gaze went to the two adults standing some distance away, one of which was pouting and the other looking sheepish. Harry came closer to them, crossed his arms over his chest and began tapping his foot:

"Now, children. How many times do I have to tell you that you shouldn't be playing indoors?" he said in a firm tone, looking expectantly at them. The entire exchange gained attention of other families gathered in the room.

"Sorry," they both said in unions, but seeing them grin, no one could say that they were really sorry,

Harry shook his head, and couldn't help but chuckle. With the scene broken like that, the usual round of greeting commenced.

"So, what are you doing here?" Harry asked after a while.

"Well, seeing how you managed to gain couple of points," Sirius started while admiring his fingernails, and over all looking like a complete snoob, totally disinterested in the entire affair, "we came to see if you will be anywhere near taking the first place,"

"Oh, behave! You old dog you," Remus said while slapping the other man on the shoulder, clearly playing the wife in this scene.

"You ever doubted that I will?" Harry challenged Sirius' word, an he unconsciously did it in such a James-like manner, that the older man had to stop and take a double look if it hadn't been him in the flesh. But then that demeanour changed to more playful, and with that slight smile that was unmistakably Lily's, both Remus and Sirius had to shake their heads to clear it off. To hide his surprise, Sirius thought a good ol' ribbing was proper thing to do.

"So... I heard something about girlfriend..." he said while waggling his eyebrows.

"And I heard that Rita Skeeter wrote that article," Harry responded perfectly imitating actions of his Godfather.

"Damn!" Sirius cursed at how good Harry was at playing the game.

"Byt the way, Harry," Remus interrupted the exchange, "What the hell are you doing writing for the Daily Prophet? Not saying anything about constantly checking if Rita is fine... I mean, who in their right mind cares?"

Harry only chuckled slightly and proposed a walk around the grounds, during which he explained in full how the situation between him and Rita truly looked like. It was impossible to count just how many times the two older men collapsed from laughter at the ongoing joke Harry had invented. The rest of their time was filled with ideas what might be described in the following edition of the Prophet, with the rest of Harry's group, Twins included, joining them along the way. They ate their dinner in their usual picnic spot, admiring the sunset. But the moment was spoiled when people begun coming from the castle, directing their steps to the Quidditch pitch, which reminded everyone in the group that the third task was about to begin.

* * *

The stands were full, people chattering excitedly about the task that was about to begin. Other champions seemed somewhat nervous, pacing back and forth in front of the four entrances to the maze. But Harry wasn't minding any of it, once again skimming his copy of the rules.

When he first saw the hedges, he noticed that like always, wizards haven't bothered with planting one bush after the other in desired pattern. Instead, they planted one, and "programmed" it with magic to grow in a desired directions. With his earlier training with water, it was no problem at all to plug a sonar like thing to the "network", to have clear view at exactly where the roots were, giving him a perfect map of the maze. Magie was doing exactly that at the moment, but it was now only a plan B, because, even as it was great having the map, it wouldn't show him where the traps were.

It was lucky enough that he came with a much quicker, easier and safer way to deal with, not only the task, but also pesky rules. So, while the judges went on and on, explaining the event to the audience and giving last tips to the champions, he casually flipped page after page, checking one rule after the other. Finally, the time had come, and the cannon blast sounded, signifying the first champion entering the maze. The trouble was, that he didn't.

"Mr. Potter," Crouch came closer after some time had passed, and it still haven't looked like Harry was going to move at all, more interested with his book than the competition, "you may begin now,"

Harry glanced up, noticing everyone watching him expectantly. "Oh, right. Yes, of course," he said while putting his book aside, at which the older wizard nodded and was about to move back to his place, "But before I do..." Harry continued, which stopped the older man, and instantly gave him a feeling that he wouldn't like this one.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" Crouch asked, hoping to get it over with in an instant.

"I have a question about some of the rules," Harry said, and before anyone could interrupt him, he begun, "Like with the rule 372 in the section 6, sub-point C. While I understand it on it's own, it doesn't make a sense if you combine it with the rule 260 from the section 4, sub-point E in particular. Or when you also take into consideration the rule 749 from the section 9, sub-points from B to D, it can be understood in at least three ways, by which I mean..."

He continued his monologue, citing a rule after rule, and knowing full well that they were completely lost, even while Percy tried to keep up with him, skimming his copy of the rules at light speed, while he casually kept jumping across sections.

During all this, second cannon blast sounded, and Cedric took only one glance at Harry still standing there, talking about regulations, but shaking his head he entered the maze, thinking that if it was Harry Potter, it will end up as a total success or total disaster... for anyone else. But while the guy stood there, he might as well try while it lasted.

Harry haven't even spared a glance at his rival, continuing to throw precise descriptions of rules at the judges in rapid speed. Another cannon blast, and Krum was inside too, making everyone in the stands wonder what was happening. Only two adults and group of Harry's closest friends were having a great fun, watching the judges sweat their pants off under Harry's "assault".

Fleur wasn't having as good of a time, and she was scowling at Harry so harshly, that he couldn't help but to look at her. But one slight smile and a wink from him, without him stopping his speech, assured her that it was going just as he had planned, and she couldn't help but to laugh lightly at the show. Another cannon blast and her demeanour changed again, to a firmer one, since she had to deal with the maze. Not really to win, since she was sure Harry would do that even with the whole delay, but because she had to prove to herself that she could do it on her own.

It was half a minute after Fleur disappeared in the maze, whole three minutes after the task begun, that Crouch had had enough.

"MR. POTTER!" he shouted, seeing no other way to effectively interrupt Harry. "Now, if you will let me," he said with a much more controlled, yet still strained voice. "While all those things you talked about are valid, the main idea of it all is that you go into the maze, and while within, you make your way into the centre using all skills at your disposal,"

"Is it really that simple?" Harry questioned in overly curious way.

"Yes, that's the main rule of the third task," the main said with finality.

"Ah," Harry said with a smile, and once again picked up his copy of the rules, making the man rub his forehead. He didn't mind that much, watching the book loose quarter of it's contents, and those that were left, rearranging themselves once again. When the writing in the book was once again still, he flipped to the last page, and smiled at the newest entry.

"Thank you, Mr. Crouch," Harry said, while handing the book the man, "You were most helpful," he continued, at last entering the maze.

He made only one step inside, at which he stopped, turned, pointed his wand at the broomstick shack, and clearly pronounced, "Accio Broomstick," at which, one of the school brooms came flying to his hand. Not minding the baffled looks at everyone's faces, he mounted the broom, and flew of.

The judges, especially Headmasters of foreign schools went berserk at that. Crouch on the other hand looked at the page that was still opened in front of him, and after reading it carefully, he let the book fall to the ground, and with a pained groan, he started pulling his hair out.

* * *

It haven't taken Harry more than ten seconds to find himself in the middle of the maze, but while he took the last couple of steps to take the cup, something unexpected happened.

'Wait,' Magie said, while catching his hand, unabling him to grab the cup.

'What?' he asked, looking at her strangely while she examined the trophy.

'There's something there...' she said, scrunching her eyes to see more clearly, her face so close to the cup that her nose nearly touched the item. 'Like a tornado in a cup...' she said at last, standing straight again.

'What does it mean?' Harry asked her, but before she could even guess, another voice interrupted them.

'Do you really need to know?' Slytherin said, coming closer to do his own inspection of the cup, talking even as he did so, 'It could be anything from a spell designed to know who touched the spell first, or the final task of the tournament, not saying that it could be an outright trap by someone ill willed...' he said, and finally he stopped his examination of the cup, 'It's not fatal,' he announced, and turned to Harry with his piercing gaze, 'The only question you should be asking yourself now is, are you up to the challenge in front of you?'

Harry watched the cup for a while, but quickly made his mind. Then he remembered about one more thing he had to deal with.

'I said I wouldn't do anything dangerous without you,' he said while turning to Magie. 'What do you think?'

She looked at him sharply, then returned her gaze to the cup, biting her lower lip in a way so well known to him, which actually made him frown a little, thinking how she might have acquired it. In the end, she stopped, and a slight mischievous smile crept onto her face.

'Why not?' she said with a shrug, 'It might even be fun,'

Harry nodded, reached for the cup, and in the instance when his hand closed around the handle, he knew full well what Magie meant while she said she saw a tornado. He begun spinning in a whirlwind, with the cup being in the centre of it, giving him a strange thought of Dorothy and not being in Kansas any more.

The second he finished that thought, it all ended, reassuring him that his thought was correct when he noticed gravestones stretching all around him.

"So quickly?" reached his ears in what he believed to be a hissed whisper.

He turned, noticing a man with a snake like face, with only slits instead of a nose, taking his wand-tip from the forearm of another man which Harry haven't seen before.

"I thought that it would take one of you a little longer to come here," the man so pale as to be completely white continued in the same strange whisper, casually binding Harry to one of the larger headstones and taking his wand away with a simple flick of his own, "but I guess it isn't that bad that you're here already. Oh, excuse me," the man stopped in mock alarm, "where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself, haven't I? But I guess you already know who I am..." the man stopped, standing in front of the bound boy.

"Voldemort," Harry said with a casual nod, like he was greeting a not really well known neighbour on the street. Strangely, his not so serious attitude haven't unsettled the man at all.

"Oh, I see you like acting," the man said in the same dangerous tone, like he did everything simply to mind his time, like a cat playing with a mouse before it had it's meal, "You see, I'm more into playwriting, like the one everyone followed perfectly all year long. Would you like to hear about that one?" Voldemort said, turning his back to the bound youth, and slowly pacing around the large cauldron, nearby which a body laid which Harry only now noticed.

Magie caught his attention, and her gaze alone clearly stated that she was ready to cut him loose and make a run for it, but he mentally stopped him, sweeping his gaze around, and she instantly knew what he meant by it.

Voldemort begun talking about his plan to get his body back, how with only one servant it wasn't easy to gather all the ingredients for a dark ritual and keep every his opponent under control. But a simple intrusion into the main event at Hogwarts, which his servant accomplished easily, kept everyone busy, leaving enough space to gather everything needed without raising suspicions. The killing of the winner of Tri-wizard Tournament was meant only as a "I'm back" greeting, and a clear message that even the best of the best couldn't compare to his might.

While the man talked, Magie was busy with defusing some of the wards around the place. Meanwhile Harry concentrated on spreading his energy around, while carefully listening to everything that was said, trying to know what the man he was facing was all about.

Everyone made Voldemort to be a raging lunatic, roaming around the country, killing everyone in his path. But Harry saw something entirely different. The man was a little over the top with the whole set-up, but it wasn't caused by his carelesness. In fact, even without Magie's expertise Harry could tell that there was massive amount of magic at work, set to control everything according to the man's wishes. He wasn't raging, but collected and methodical, and intent to kill that was radiating in abundance made Harry re-think his idea of staying here.

A raging lunatic, person overwhelm with impulses, he could handle. But Voldemort wasn't that. He was the more dangerous breed of a madman. A psychopath collected, methodical and planing all his actions down to the finest details, getting the kicks at how the rest of the world was unable to stop him. It was no surprise that he came back from his grave simply to get another hit of his favourite drug.

Then people started popping in, and the casual chitchat was over. Then Voldemort became rage, fury and anger all in one, lashing at his servants. Harry marveled at the change, because he understood fully how masterful it was. Hiding a madman under the face of the madman – one worse than the other. People still followed him, as it looked like they would get punished only if they failed. Probably no one would stay anywhere near the true Voldemort, as it was clear the man would tie you to a chair and torture you for hours, slowly, simply to have something to do while he waited for the main event. It also showed how controlled the man could be...

Harry didn't know why the man bared his true face to him and only him, since the other man went to heal his heavily bandaged hand which looked like a chunk of meet had been cut out of it. Maybe it was because he thought that Harry wouldn't have the occasion to tell anyone else, but seeing as he still was alive, yet bound, it was clear that he was going to be the main attraction of the evening. That in itself promised the opportunity for escape, but Harry was planing the events instead.

While Voldemort went around the circle, tearing masks one after another, revealing all his Death Eaters, throwing their acts right back at him, Magie returned to Harry's side, nodding her head slightly to signify that the most important work was done. Harry smiled slightly, and followed the show, remembering all the details, names and behaviours of the people gathered, trying to know his enemy while he still could.

"... but do not fear, my friends," Voldemort toned his speech down when fear was once again planted deeply in the minds of the Death Eaters,"because your lord is merciful to those who prove their alliegance. And so it appears we have ourselves a child from the light side," he said, and in an overly exaggerated gesture presented Harry for all to see. "It is strange that it so happens to be Potter to find himself here tonight, as I had some... special plans for him in the future. But while we have this opportunity, why not enjoy it to the fullest?" he finished, and with another flick, Harry was let loose, and his wand was thrown under his feet.

"What will you do, Potter?" the Dark Lord challenged, "Will you run or will you fight? Well, whatever you do, it surely will be entertaining... Of course, only for us," he finished with a wicked smile, making everyone else chuckle darkly.

Harry smoothed his clothes, and did an old fashioned low bow, but while he came back straight, there wasn't a wand in his hand – in fact, it had mysteriously vanished from sight – but a colourful handkerchief which he promptly threw into the air. In it's wake, another followed, and another. In not time at all, the air was full of colourful pieces of cloth zooming throughout the air, creating an ever growing cloud in front of the boy.

Then Voldemort begun laughing darkly, a sound neither cheerful, nor coming from amusement. It was only to signify that the Dark Lord caught the joke that was in front of him. As suddenly the laughter begun, it ended, and the dark wizard picked again with his hissed whisper.

"Well, it seems that in the end, we will have some kind of entertainment," then, turning to his Death Eaters again, this time too closely following behaviour of a stage announcer, he again motioned to the boy, saying "Gentlemen, I give to you, Harry Potter," after which he pointed his wand at the colourful cloud – a gesture everyone else followed.

In an instance, lots of lights hit the "man on stage", but unlike the usual performance, this one torn the props to shreds, destroyed gravestones in it's paths, and caused destruction whenever it reached, rising clouds of dust as an additional stage effect. When the barrage ended and the smoke begun to clear, everyone could notice a silhouette lying slumped on the ground. Everyone present chuckled darkly in appreciation of their handiwork.

But the laughter was short lived. It ended abruptly when another sound could be heard. Clapping. Death Eaters exchanged confused glances, but then ,as one, turned to the source of the sound, and received even greater shock, when they noticed that some distance from the side of their formation, Harry Potter was casually sitting on a grave stone, and clapping while admiring the effects of their actions from moments ago.

Seing that everyone noticed him, "That was perfect guys," he called, "I think you got him for good."

Baffled, after one more time to check if anyone else understood what was happening, they concentrated on the fallen silhouette that now, given that smoke had cleared, was lying in full view. Harry himself thought that it would be more impressive if Death Eaters knew at least a little about mundane world, because then they might have appreciated the joke of aiming at a crash-test dummy with his picture stuck to the face and a bullseye painted on the chest.

Lord Voldemort finally torn everyone from their daze with his angry shout, and started a new assault. This time Harry only ducked behind the grave stone he was sit-in on.

'Are you sure it's wise to taunt them?' Magie asked, sitting right next to him.

'Well, maybe not, but it does good enough job at confusing them, since no one really though of simply transfiguring the gravestone we're hiding behind, or summoning me to them. And while speaking of their skills...' he didn't even finish, simply pointed to a spell that struckt a gravestone three rows further. It wasn't a singular case. Spells were flying high and wide, and it seemed that only couple ended in the nearest proximity of Harry's hiding place. Seeing that, Magie just shrugged.

'By the way, are you done yet?' Harry asked, while checking how things looked like with a simple pocket mirror.

'Not quite yet,' she answered, with her eyes closed in concentration.

'Okay, let's jack 'em and give them something else to shoot,' he said, at which three new people materialized in front of him, spells zooming harmlessly through their forms. One was an older gentleman in the usual white-tie wear, and two were kids, with unusually disturbing mischievous glints in their eyes.

* * *

Voldemort halted the spell-casting, as once again the dust in the air made it impossible to see anything clearly. He gestured to start the more thorough search of the area, but before first Death Eater could enter the rows of gravestones, a small wooden box came flying in their direction, making everyone jump back out of habit. Before a single spell could be fired, it opened, revealing a jester on a spring.

Everyone watched in frustrated confusion as the jester kept bouncing around in the usual Jack-in-the-box manner. Unconsciously, they gathered around it, casting dubious glances at each other, but in the exact moment when they were about to discard the toy and start their search, the jester up until now still became alive, and faster than anyone could react, took a camera out of his hat and did a picture of the group, blinding them all with the sudden flash.

When the pain in their eyes subsided, but with occasional white spot still dancing in their eyes, they noticed that the toy was nowhere to be seen, and a voice that seemingly came from all around them reached their ears:

"You guys surely make strange faces when someone takes your picture all of a sudden,"

Implications of having their picture taken in this setting were clear, and instantly anger overwhelmed them.

"There!" one of them shouted, instantly sending a curse at the shadow in the darkness, splitting it in two.

"Don't be like that!" came from another direction, and someone else slain another shadow.

"Play nice!", "Stop destroying my things!", "I'm picking my toys and going to play somewhere else!" the voice kept taunting them, and they were beyond rage, not really caring just how many shadows suddenly appeared out of nowhere. All they cared for was to destroy everything that moved, since one of them surely must be the real one.

During it all, Harry haven't moved an inch, letting Odis and Desi have their fun while setting the shooting range, under the guidance of Mr. Danton. He, himself, simply waited for Magie to finish her thing, and he could guess that it wasn't that long, what with that soft glow that begun appearing around her.

* * *

Energy. That was the only limitation that wandless magician faced, because with unlimited amount of that, the thing stopping them from turning the whole world upside-down would be their imagination.

Harry had a whole year to study the enchantments placed on the Sword of Gryffindor, and even if he haven't grasped some, he learned by heart the rule behind the most important one – the energy gathering spell. And it so happened, that during all this, he haven't forgot to place it on everything he touched so far – from the handkerchiefs, the dummy and even the cardboard replicas of himself – which meant that every single spell that touched any of the items, was changed, even if partly, to energy he could use any way he saw fit.

So, while Death Eaters and their master stood in a circle formation, panting slightly from the exertion but sill casting spells to slay an enemy which wasn't even there, they all missed the energy building up, making the air itself to feel thick.

Harry could see the change with his very eyes, when a glowing nimbus of energy appeared around Magie. He knew that he had only a slight moment to gather the energy to a point in which it was still under him control, and before the world around him decided to balance the energy on it's own – for instance by doing a spontaneous lightning-storm – simply to set things on their proper course.

Wandless mages didn't have the need to voice their spells, but still they did. It might seem stupid or unnecessary to any other person, but a mage doing something on a grater scale still remembered that he was only a small part of the universe, and it was polite to warn the rest. It wasn't only about plants and animals, but all forms of the unseen - be it ghosts, or even some more powerful spirits, not saying anything about demons. It saved the trouble of bringing the wrath of an entity closer to a lesser god that a man on the head of a wizard, and gave chance to negotiate how to settle the conflict with best result to all parties.

Death Eaters stopped, seeing no more silhouettes, and waited for anything that might happen next. In the meantime, Harry started chanting quietly, still safe in his hiding place.

"Come out, come out, just to dwell within,"

At his first words, Magie disappeared, taking the energy with her, being replaced by something new – a form of a man, seemingly cut from the dark sky without any stars on it. Harry haven't shown any sign of worry, even as more shades came to his side. Meanwhile, Death Eaters remained oblivious to what was happening, and seeing that nothing else came, they slowly begun to move around, finally starting their search for him.

"Be again, even if only to feel wind on your skin,"

The shades shimmered and disappeared as well, leaving Harry alone again.

"Bend and dance with bodies which on their own cannot,"

The Death Eaters were all over the place, with only Voldemort staying in the circle watching the scene with his calculating eyes. But even he missed the moment when all the statues on various graves opened their eyes.

"Take part in life, so you won't ever be forgot"

At Harry's last words, all hell broke loose. Statues up until steady as stone, leapt from their places, attacking Harry's enemies with speed and agility far surpassing that of greatest predators. Even Voldemort was caught by surprise when statue from his fathers grave charged straight at him. Earlier he laughed at the show Potter presented him with. Now, the fact that he had to face the statue of death – The Death itself, as every swing of the stone scythe was aimed with intent to kill – set him into a grim mood, even as he understood the pun present.

Even as he was able to dodge every single strike, he knew that this soon after the ritual he wouldn't be able to keep up for very long. And seeing as his spells, even while tearing chunks of stone from his adversary, did nothing to slow him down, he had no other choice but to disapparate to a safer location.

Seeing that their master had fled, Death Eaters quickly followed in his footsteps. At least those that first got the idea, since when statues noticed what was happening, they begun catching anyone in sight, and holding tight enough to make a thought of even thinking straight to be a far away vision, saying nothing about the concentration needed to apparate.

When there were no one else in sight, the statues stopped moving once more, trapping the few Death Eaters that remained as integral elements of the picture, with no chance to be free with their own strength.

Then, the shadows appeared again, standing around Harry, saying nothing, just being there, and it seemed that they weren't going anywhere, expecting something of him. Problem was that he had no idea what to do.

'They're waiting for your pledge,' Slythering said, appearing at his side.

'How's Magie and the rest?' he asked what he thought to be more important question first.

'Well. It was good that you haven't taken that much energy from your friend. She will be fine after a good nights rest,' Salazar reassured him.

'So, the pledge then?' Harry remarked, thinking what he have involved himself in this time, as he watched the shadows waiting there expectantly.

Salazar just nodded at his question, 'Simply say the first words that come to your head,'

Harry closed his eyes, and let the words flow without processing them in his concious mind:

"Sleep peacefully, linger here no more,

Mind not the acts which to do you swore.

Since Fate tonight our paths entwine

All your woes from now on will be mine"

He opened his in time to see the shades flickering into nothingness, and the only question he had at the moment was:

'What the hell was that?' he turned to Slytherin, expecting an outright answer.

'Necromancy,' the other man said with half a smile, being more than happy to comply.

'Necromancy?' Harry repeated, a little dubious, but he frowned in thought seeing that they were, in fact, in a graveyard.

'Yes, but not the dark kind of deal you might think of,' Slytherin said in that usual way when he was going to give him a lecture on the current topic. 'If you think that Necromancy deals with ghosts, you are wrong. Ghosts are entities born when someone is not yet ready to pass on. It is an concious choice, and so, the person still maintains their conciousness and form. Necromancy on the other hand deals with other kind of spirits, shapeless, born from a tragedy or drama. There are times when horrendous things happen, murders by the hand of closest friends or treachery on the battlefield when soldiers are slain by their allies. Sometimes, when that is done, enough misery and pain lingers behind, calling for anyone to see the crime and avenge the fallen. All those things muggles speak of, rattling of chains, banging you can hear in the walls. Those are nothing else than those tormented souls using anything at their disposal to call for help, as they are unable to pass on until that business is left unfinished. Priests...' Salazar stopped to shake his head.

'While demonic possessions can happen, it is rarely, as demons have better things to do than play with humans who more often turn to them on their own. Possession by a spirit on the other hand, although not as ghastly, is not a pretty sight in its own right. What Priests do with that, is to expel the soul from the body, or a house, but what they gain from this is only the fact that that torment travels further, seeking help somewhere else. At one point, it became unbearable and wizards thought how to deal with the situation, and that's how Necromancy was born,'

'The necromancy you hear about now, Zombie, Ghouls, Liches... That's begun when wizards started feeling too full of themselves for their own good, and trapped the spirits in bodies or some kind of other entity, to do their bidding until the end of time,' Slytherin spat angrily, but then sighed sadly and shook his head

'What a true necromancer is ought to do when meeting such a spirit, is to forge a deal. He often receives knowledge or favours from the unseen,' here Slytherin motioned to the statues that were nowhere near the places they have started from, 'but in return, he has to settle the problem the spirit had, the one which unabled them from passing on. It's a fair deal. Necromancer moves on in his life, and let's move others. That's what you pledged,' he said, and seeing the horrified look on Harry's face, quickly reassured the disturbed boy, 'Don't worry. Fate works in it's own way, and somewhere along your path you will meet the task you have to acomplish. If not, you must simply pass the will on, as long as one of your descendats or apprentices will fulfill the deed,'

Harry took all of this in, and nodded, thinking that what was done, was done. Of course, he couldn't know that the deed was already done, since a certain Riddle family was glad to help in proving that one of their own wasn't as mighty as he though he was. Peaceful passing on was simply an added bonus.

'So... what to do now?' Harry asked, lookin across the graveyard, with Death Eaters still bound in their places – unconcious from the pain if Harry would have to guess – and half of the gravestones smashed to pieces.

'It took you one way, it is bound to give you a trip back,' Slytherin said, pointing to the cup with his head.

But Harry had a better idea. He quickly transfigured something into a parchment, and wrote only one word "HELP!", charming it inta Howler, but for it to play the message in a loop until someone didn't come, just in case if the landing zone was not immediately next to a group of people.

Having a sudden inspiration, he wrote another one which would play istelf when someone did in the end come to chec out a commotion. It was simply to somewhat calm people, well maybe only his friends or anyone who caught the meaning, that he was alright. The note read:

"Make Charlie send many dragons!"

Pleased with his work, he summoned a frog, and after he saw that it was enough to trigger the porting spell, he nodded and turned looking at all the gravestones he had to repair. In the light of everything Slytherin told him, he wouldn't allow the dead to be any more restless than they already were. But first...

"Oh, Jackie!" he called, and from one of the headstones, a certain Jack in a box sprang, bearing in his arms a certain camera.

* * *

AN. I managed it today, and here it is, straight from the oven. I hope you liked it.

Now, I haven't noticed this before, but it seems that when I post chapter sometimes some words get eaten up. I don't know why that happens, but even as I tried to fix/correct it in the last chapter, I ended with the exactly same thing. Sorry for the missing words, but it seems it's going to be that way, at least for now.

And yeah, those of you who think that you might have seen the second message Harry included somewhere before, it is my personal nod to SilverWolf7007's story "Dear Order". I enjoyed it immensely. I just wish it would have an update from time to time...


	63. Chapter 63

You know who earned millions because of the popularity of Harry Potter series? You go find for yourself if you seriously don't know. I'm too pained by the fact that it wasn't me to explain things to you.

* * *

One thing Harry hated the most was probably repeating himself. Or maybe he was thinking that because he was made to do it a lot.

Still being in the graveyard, minding his time with repairing the gravestones, he thought that it was good he set the message for help to play itself in a loop, as a long time passed before anyone came to his "rescue". At first, he thought that there was no one around where the cup had landed. Later he changed his mind to another version of events where people began quarrelling over authority and who was leading the party. But when they came, it seemed that every single person that could, came at the same time.

Harry wondered if pictures could be taken inside of a pensieve, because he seriously would like a moving picture of a group of over 50 people landing on the scene, ready for action, and over short period of time becoming aware that the party was long over.

Then the other part began. People scanning the graveyard, looking for trails, securing evidence – the sight of Aurors trying to extract Death Eaters from the statues was particularly funny for Harry. But he couldn't watch it in full, because, once again, all of the attention was on him. Everyone wanted to speak to him.

At first, it was funny, seeing time after time shocked faces as he told everyone the "official version" of the events. But then it became monotonous, with at least ten people asking the same questions all over again. Not saying anything that he was constantly being checked by at least three ministry wizards and Madam Pomfrey for any signs of injury of trauma.

In the end, Harry got fed up with it, saying that if he had to tell all about it, let it be once and for good. That's how he ended in Headmaster's office with the judges of the Tri-Wizard tournament and Madam Bones as the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Now, Harry. Could we hear again what exactly happened?" Madam Bones asked in her no-nonsense voice.

Harry sighed and started from the beginning. "I got to the centre of the maze and grabbed the cup which turned out to be a port-key. I landed in the graveyard and saw two men. One of them, because of how he looked like, was Voldemort, and I have no idea who the other one might be. They bound me to a gravestone, and Voldemort summoned his servants. When he ended his speech, I was left with a choice: to run or to fight. Instead, I managed to fool them and hide. Then I simply hoped for some help, at which point statues started running around. The rest you probably know,"

Harry always wondered if this kind of an answer was lying or not. He said no lies, but he haven't told them the entire truth either. On one hand, he couldn't call himself a liar, since he wasn't trying to lie, and only the misconceptions that people in the room were creating themselves stopped them from thinking anything else than "accidental magic" when he told them about moving statues – and by definition, his way of doing magic could be called that. But on the other hand, the fact that he was aware that the others weren't exactly on the right path, and him not doing anything to correct that, made him a perfect example of a liar. Or was he simply manipulating people?

That topic always gave him trouble, to pinpoint what was and what wasn't allowed in certain situations, so instead he concentrated on those not so subtle glances elders in the room gave each other, or those expressions clearly stating that they didn't believe a child so young could survive an encounter with You-Know-Who. Harry just rolled his eyes slightly that they were doing exactly the same mistake that Voldemort did. Thinking that they always knew better...

"But in conversation with one of my Auror's you stated that you used handkerchiefs to fool them... I don't quite understand that," Madam Bones asked, looking through her initial report.

At that, Harry took one galleon out of his pocket, and started flipping it between his fingers.

"I always liked magic, even when it was only the muggle one," he said as he flipped the coin, "Though, I believe you all know that muggle magic isn't that far from the real one," he stated when he uncovered his palm to show that the coin was not there at all.

"The war on magic that we can read about in middle-ages, wasn't successful, but for entirely different reason than that wizards had magic to help them protect themselves from the flames at the stakes. It wasn't successful because wizards were too smart to get caught in the trap. It's sad really, but most of the people killed in those times were muggles smart enough to know that some herbs healed certain illnesses, but not yet educated enough to prove how they worked. Since no one knew, the fear from the unknown kicked in, and it became evil,"

"Wizards on the other hand knew perfectly well how their ways worked, and understood fully what to do to be safe. Simply said, they became mundane. No longer could you see wand-waving or spell casting, as wizards became jugglers, fire-eaters, or even jesters on king's courts. They hid in plain sight, continuing their art without anyone noticing, and even as traveling in a troupe was safer, they didn't even had to move from their houses. That's where modern muggle showmanship and art of illusion came. The misdirection, fake props, the façade with at least two layers... The rules stayed the same from the time when true wizards did it. But now for wizards it's even more baffling, cause while I do this, you are still thinking of spells, charms, and transfiguration, giving me all the opportunities I need to baffle you with a simple handkerchief,"

During his entire speech, Harry haven't stopped playing with his coin. Showing it in one hand, for it to vanish and find it's way into his other hand. Sometimes it ended in his pocket or his sock. At other times, there were two or three coins in his palm and in the next second there were none. He kept showing them the simplest of slights of hand, all without Magie's help, but during his last sentence, when there was once again only one galleon laying in his palm, after he opened it, there was no longer any coins, but a red handkerchief, and he barely held his laughter at the look on everyone's faces as it was precisely that kid's look, saying "Do that again!".

Seeing that there was no more coming, and finally getting herself from the daze, Madam Bones came back on topic.

"Do you mean that you did that in front of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his Death Eaters?" she asked with a harsh tone, and Harry smiled as he noticed she was embarrassed about the fact she got dragged into his ploy. He smiled more at the thought that he was going to do it again.

"No, what I did was..." he said while standing and throwing the handkerchief he was holding high up into the air. His action was sudden enough that it got everyone's attention, and the compulsion on the piece of cloth for everyone to follow it with their eyes did the rest, as he got through the room to scratch Fawkes. He didn't even trouble himself with notice-me-not charm.

"And that's-" Madam Bones asked, turning once again to the chair Harry was sitting in, but noticed that he wasn't there.

"Yep, that's about it," Harry said, making everyone turn to his new position on the other side of the room. "I mean, it was good enough to fool Voldemort, so who am I to complain?" he added casually, enjoying when some heads begun turning from him to the chair and back, clearly trying to figure it all out.

But then another voice joined the conversation, making everyone forget about previous topic.

"That's preposterous!" Minister of Magic, Cornelious Fudge exclaimed while coming through the door, having heard Harry's last statement. "You-Know-Who is not back! Who are you to say that he is?"

"It's nice to see you too, Minister," Harry said with a smile, because he now knew what was previously missing in this conversation. A politician who wanted to cover up the entire affair because it wasn't good for the "public". Or was it "public opinion" preceding elections? Harry could never tell. Fortunately he came prepared for this conversation.

He always liked watching the crash-tests. Not only because of the destruction, but also because one could write a tragedy in three acts about that one.

Act One: take of the brakes and let the car roll.

"As for your question, Minister, I'm the man who saw Voldemort in the flesh," Harry stated, then turned to Madam Bones, "And shouldn't it be you, Madam, who conducts the investigation and collects the evidence?" which made the Head of Magic Law Enforcement scowl.

Act Two: accelerate.

"As a matter of fact, it would be good to have something more tangible than your simple word. A memory which we could watch in a pensieve, or if not that, then maybe an oath?" Madam Bones challenged, somewhat annoyed with both Fudge and Harry for interrupting her investigation.

"Maybe this will be helpfull," Harry said while taking something out of his robes, and with the eagerness of a teenager who was about to show something grand to his buddies, came back to his chair and motioned for everyone else to gather around.

Act Three: hit the wall.

"Now, this here, in the centre, is Voldemort. Around, as you probably guessed are his cronies... Wait a minute, where was I?" Harry kept pointing to people in the picture like it was a holiday photo, while Madam Bones looked like she was petrified on his one side, while on the other, Fudge was probably getting an heart attack. "Ah, right. Here I am!" Harry exclaimed, pointing to a small figure glancing from behind a gravestone in the too familiar Where-is-Wally manner.

"You managed to take their picture!" Madam Bones finally managed to voice in her shock.

"Well, I just wanted to blind them with the flash, but then I remembered that there was still one frame left inside, so..." he left it hanging with a shrug, which made Madam Bones look at him incredulously.

"How can you be so carefree about the whole affair?" she asked, seriously considering what was wrong with this kid. Back in the days when He-who-must-not-be-named freely roamed the land on each dead there were two Aurors who broke down and needed professional help. And yet this kid acted like it was nothing big.

"I don't really know, it's just the way I am. If I can't do anything about the problem, I joke about it. You know, in a situation that I don't have a choice beside whether I should cry or laugh, I'd rather laugh, since crying would mean I would have laid down and died instead of getting out from that graveyard,"

"That's quite understandable, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, up until now silent, pleased that Harry could take care of everything on his own.

But before anyone could say anything else, a tall broad shouldered man in Auror robes burst through the door.

In that moment Harry remembered the occasional bonus to the play, when the cars behind start colliding as well.

"Director!" the man exclaimed, going straight to Madam Bones, missing completely Minister who sat quietly near the door, fanning himself for some more air.

"What is it Shacklebolt? And it better be good," she snapped over the man interrupting the meeting.

"Two things Director, and they're both big!" the man continued, fighting his slight exhaustion coming from the fact that he had sprinted there. "We finally know who was the man that was already dead. It seems You-know-who killed one of the more prominent Dark Lords in central Europe-"

"Well, it seems anyone trying to conquer the world is considered Voldemort's enemy," Harry said first thing that would fit into the situation, but strangely, his offhand comment triggered something of a glint in Dumbledore's eye.

"It seems that they've drained all of the blood in his body!" Shacklebolt continued, not minding Harry's mutterings.

But on the other hand, Harry listened closely and caught Headmaster's muttered, "Blood of the enemy,".

"What's the other thing then?" Madam Bones demanded, seeing that the case was becoming more complicated by the minute. Now the Internationals would have to know all about it too.

"One of the captured Death Eaters was Barthemius Crouch Jr. He was the one with the bandaged hand." Shacklebolt said, and this time Headmaster's eyes widened slightly, with Harry catching "Flesh of the servant,"

"Then he was the one who brought Voldemort back," Harry said and at that announcement entire room became silent.

"What?" whispered Mr. Crouch. Meanwhile, no one seemed to care that Minister fainted because of that information.

"My son died in Azkaban all those years ago. How can this be possible?" he asked, not really sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Harry thought a while, and since easiest way to cover something missing was to place something similar in it's place, he asked:

"How had your wife died then?" and watched the man closely.

"My wife..." Crouch started like it wasn't proper to ask, but stopped abruptly and his face scrunched in concentration, then in pain, at which he started rubbing his temples.

"Would anyone be kind enough to call a healer, as it seems Mr. Crouch here has some problems with _memory loss_, if you catch my drift..." Harry said, and the room once again bustled with activity.

"Now, a talk with the Dark Lord, uncovering an escaped convict AND an obliviated ministry worker. I think that's enough work for one day. May I be excused now?" he asked Headmaster, and the man nodded absent-mindedly, clearly thinking deeply about one of the things that had been revealed that night.

Harry went to the exit, thinking himself just how many things seemed to be revolving around him.

* * *

It was just moments after he had left Headmasters office, when another matter collided with him head on. In fact, quite literally...

"Wha-" was the only thing he managed as he stumbled to the ground, right after he had bounced off of someone.

"Oh, hello Harry. Didn't see you there," he heard while he was helped to his feet.

"Likewise," he said with a chuckle, but only now was he able to see clearly with whom he was talking. "Going to see the Headmaster at this hour, Charlie?"

"Yeah. We're moving the dragons this nigh, since it's less likely we will be seen, and I need to finalize the paperwork."

"You might want to wait a minute or two," Harry warned and at Charlie's questioning gaze, he explained further, "Minister is up there and it seems night isn't going like he would like it to,"

Charlie looked at Harry, since he already heard about recent developments and remembered how they boy was from the other times they've met, or even from Twin's stories only. In the end, all he could say to that was:

"Right..." with that knowing look that but of course Harry had nothing to do with Minister's spoiled plans. But then all of a sudden, a certain idea struck him.

"You know what," he started to gain Harry's attention, as it seemed that the boy was about to leave. "We were cleaning the cages lately, and I've found this in the cage of the Horntail you faced," he said as he dug out a scale from his pocked. "It's kind of strange that it fell off on it's own, but I thought I could do a nice pedant out of it. But I guess you should have it instead," and with that, he handed the scale to it's proper owner.

Harry was wondering what the scale might be useful for, since he wasn't particularly keen on gloating over his victories – if this one could even be called that. But in the moment that the scale found itself firmly in his grasp, that thought changed to nothing, as a searing pain struck his hand. In his fogged mind, he thought that if he had to compare the feeling to anything, he would have to say that he was being branded.

That thought vanished as well, because the pain didn't lessen after a moment like it should have, but started pulsating as if it was a heartbeat, with the heat gong up his arm. He fell to the floor clutching his hand, and when the heat got to his chest, he was vaguely aware of the smoke spilling from his mouth with his every breath.

From there it was easier, since, even as burning in his hand stayed the same, the heat lessened somewhat, radiating to his other limps. Then he became aware of Magie standing right behind him and softly rubbing his back. He thought for an instant whether she was soothing his pain or simply voicelessly telling him that it will be over soon. But it only took long enough for the heat to reach his head and a slight presence settle there, for him to understand the situation fully.

As always when it comes down to pain, everything seems longer than it really is, and it wasn't even full two second from when Harry collapsed, during which Charlie had enough time to go into a wide-eyed shock, when Harry's breath steadied, the smoke gone entirely, and he began collecting himself from the ground.

While he was standing up shakily, it took Charlie only one look at the hand that up until now Harry was holding tightly against him, for him to start chuckling and then laughing at what just happened.

"Well, I'll be damned. You really don't have a single normal day in your life, do you? Charlie asked with the occasional chuckle. "I've heard stories about things like this, but I have never thought that I'll witness one of those myself. I mean, nobody has reported it in something like five-hundred years, if not more than that..." he kept rambling, practically bursting with excitement.

Harry, who, during Charlies speech was marvelling a scorch-mark that appeared on his forearm – a scale like pattern wrapping itself like a ribbon around his hand and wrist with the end reaching his elbow – listened more closely when he heard the time reference. Then he glanced at Magie who shrugged with a wink before disappearing.

"I don't know how I could explain it to you," Charlie's voice reached him again. "I don't really know what it means to dragons, but if I would have to translate your status down to human terms... Well, I think you've just became-"

"A godfather," Harry finished for him, making Charlie look at him curiously. "I can feel it, in a sense, but that word, although close, isn't exactly how it feels. I don't feel the responsibility to protect the young dragons, or at least not right now. And I doubt that, if anything should happen to the mother, that they'll fly here to live at my place. It's more like she's letting me know that my efforts didn't go in vain, and her children are safe and healthy. But I wonder..." Harry murmured, thinking about the heat that went through his body.

He stepped closer to one of the torches lining the wall, and passed his marked hand above the flame. Then did it again, but slower. Finally, he stuck his hand in the flame and held it there for a while. After taking it back, he flexed his fingers, and tried the same with his other hand. The effect was the same, with him feeling only a pleasant heat from the flame, but without any damage to his skin.

"Amazing," Charlie whispered when he also came closer, and watched as Harry casually let the flame go between his fingers. "Fireproofness as an side effect of befriending a dragon is something I truly haven't heard before,"

"I doubt it that I'm totally safe from any kind of fire," Harry said, finally stopping playing with the flame for good, "I mean, it's not like I've became dragon all of a sudden. I guess it's just enough to..." Harry stopped, not knowing just how well protected was he. Fortunately, Charlie got the perfect example for the situation.

"Just enough for you not to get blisters when you play with your godchildren and they suddenly spew sparks all over you?" Charlie asked with a laugh.

"Yeah, something like that," Harry replied with a slight smile.

Their conversation was interrupted as people started spilling out of Headmaster's office, each and everyone of them looking at Harry in different way.

"That popular, huh?" Charlie asked, glancing at Harry.

"Yeah, something like that," he repeated himself, this time without the smile.

"Well, if you feel like it, you could come down to the Handler's quarters. Guys definitely would like to see that _tattoo_ of yours. And don't worry, they're not the type that stare. Rather they would call you awesome before throwing you into the fireplace to check..." Charlie started with a laugh, but then winced at not the best encouragement.

"You party that much?" Harry questioned with a risen brow.

"Well, you know, it's an exciting job, so you can easily get bored when everything is normal," Charlie responded with a smile.

"I might think about it," Harry said with a smile, at which Charlie nodded, and got going with a wave of his hand as a means of goodbye.

Harry went along his way, thinking that only now started the true work of the evening, as his friends wouldn't want the "official version" but the story of the entire affair, with Hermione berating him for all the stupid things he did. But the though of being hit with that bushy-haired-bullet and her holding him tightly for the dear life somehow gave him a better mood.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the semester with his friends. His tght group a little bigger this year, what with Fleur being dragged by her sister for a picnic with him and his friends, or Cedric and Victor proposing "just one more" makeshift game of Quidditch.

With that peaceful atmosphere all of a sudden, if one knew how to tune out the rest of the school like always buzzing with gossip, he nearly forgot about another buzzing thing.

"Hello, Rita," he said, holding the glass jar on his eye level. "Now, I know you hear me, as you've heard everything else, so I just want you to know that I'm going to let you out, but all the ways out of this room are sealed shut. Instead of trying to run away, be a good girl and return to your own form so we can have a little chat," he finished while taking the lid off.

In no time at all, Rita Skeeter in the flesh, although with some bug ticks left after such a long time in her animal form, was standing in front of him.

"I just want you to know, Potter, that what you did-" she spat, her voice thick with venom.

"Do what?" Harry interrupted her, asking curiously, "I supported your columns while you weren't able to do so. I made your name appear on the front page as often as the paper was published, making you into a star. I even managed to get you a pay raise if you want to believe today's paper," saying that, he threw newest edition of the Daily Prophet at the desk in front of her. The title of the front page article screamed in bold:

**Rita Skeeter Ready to Continue Her Field Work Again!**

"But you can't do that!" she screamed at him, still not really saying what was her problem.

"Do what?" Harry asked again, "I wrote truth, only truth and nothing but the truth. The only little fact that I've omitted was that you were an unregistered animagi. Surely you wouldn't want that to be known, don't you?" he asked her innocently while tilting his head.

"But what with my reputation now? How will you rebuild it?" she demanded.

"Why should I do anything to help you with rebuilding your reputation? I thought that slander, manipulation of facts or making up lies is normal in your profession..." Harry said, while throwing three more newspapers in front of her.

All were with her articles on the front page. One of them being about Dumbledore as an obsolete dingbag, the other of him being a child too smart for his own good, with the third being her story about him and Hermione being a couple.

"What do you want from me, Potter?" she asked, now looking like a little girl on the verge of the tears.

"Nothing," he said with a shrug, at which she looked at him like he just slapped her. "What? You really don't get it, do you? You don't even know what your problem is? Fine, I'll tell you. All this time what I did, was to play you, the perfect reporter. Then you were sitting in that jar, playing a normal Joe, who can do nothing about what press prints about him. At the end of it all, is it my problem that you don't like the reporter? That you don't like yourself?"

She sat there, her mouth working but not a word coming out.

"Now, you're free to do what you please, but don't drag this into a court, because I tell you now that you will surely lose. Of course, you might want to get revenge with that writing thing you have still going on, but then again, I could think you want to play again, and then I might become a little more creative," Harry said as he opened the door, but seeing as the woman just sat there, staring at the newspapers still laying on the table, he shook his head and went outside himself with a quiet, "Goodbye, Rita,"

* * *

AN. Erm... I might have overdid it with Rita, but I guess the way she is in the Book just makes me think of hurting her...


	64. Chapter 64

Well, I could tell you that I'm J. K. Rowling, but since that statement isn't true, it would be a lie.

* * *

The Term ended, with Harry being declared the winner of the Tri-wizards Tournament and a ceremony was held with as much pompousness as was due for such an occasion. But in everyone's minds that was unimportant when right next to the school tournament you had the meeting with the Dark Lord himself, not saying anything about his whole inner circle, that he managed to not only survive, but come out of victorious.

Harry himself just wanted to get over with with all of it, and took his part in the celebrations, thanking Minister for the "pocket change" as he was presented with the thousand galleon prize. But it seemed that even while he was sitting comfortably in the compartment of the Hogwart's Express, surrounded by his friends, he still had some matters he had to deal with.

'Harry,' he heard, and looked around, not seeing her anywhere. Finally he caught a glimpse of her on the other side of the door, but when he was about to get up to go to her, he noticed exactly where she was. Instead of being somewhere in the corridor, she used the glass as a looking-glass, with her sitting comfortably where he should be sitting. He smiled slightly at this new way of appearing, but it vanished quickly when he noticed the urgency on her face.

'I need to show you something,' she said before leaving, making the reflection to return to normal.

He settled back into his seat, and closed his eyes, seemingly going to take a nap, but in truth following her into his inner world.

Strangely he appeared directly in front of the hut in which the scared baby lived, when before it was inside Magie's house. Leaving that for later, he entered, and immediately knew what she wanted to discuss.

"I came here to check on the baby, as I do from time to time, but then..." she left it hanging, pointing to the frame hanging on the wall instead, even as Harry was already looking at it.

The painting in the frame wasn't almost completely dark like it started as. Neither was it displaying a shadowy figure. Now, in full detail of a hand of a skilled artist, a figure of Lord Voldemort was displayed, striking a pose equal to that of all the greatest conquerors from the past.

Strangely, Harry had only one thought at the moment.

"Magie, have you ever heard of the picture of Dorian Gray?" Harry asked, examining the absolute perfection of the work of art.

"You know that I know pretty much the same things as you do," she replied from behind him.

"Well," he started with a sigh, "It seems that someone knew about it too," he stated, turning to her, but then going right for the crib, "You knew about it, haven't you, Thomas?" he said while walking to the child, to see what became of it, but on his way, he kicked something.

His eyes immediately went to the item sliding on the floor, and when it stopped, he went to pick it up. It was the notebook everything started with, or the representation of it that he could see in his mind. But strange thing about was that it was no longer tied to other things. Harry looked at the rest of the things still connected by the strange link, with his eyes stopping at the locket.

"We must go to the Gringotts,"

* * *

Horcruxes were the darkest of magic not because of their destructiveness, but because of the imbalance they introduced to the world.

They started as a necromantic ritual that went awry. It was meant to seal demons or ill willed spirits that refused to be sent to their proper place, but when it became apparent that the sealing couldn't be made complete and the soul could take over anyone who spent too much time near the item, it was abandoned for more effective ways to deal with the problem.

Of course, it was rediscovered centuries later, but by that time, pretty much all the information about the construct was lost, most importantly the side notes of the creator, describing in detail why the spell wasn't perfect at all.

Still, people used it in new way, to make themself immortal by anchoring part of their soul to an item. What they haven't realised was that the process was meant for spirits, shades of whole souls, or demons who through their wickedness were deformed in their own right. It wasn't meant for human souls. Whole souls. But like always when there was work to do with problems along the way, magic had it's own way to deal with them as for the task to be complete.

While necromantic magic relayed on the emotion of the spirit necromancer dealt with, be it sorrow, pain, or hate and will to do harm in case of the more violent ones, Horcrux process used on the living soul did the same.

While people are different, it is unquestionable that every single one have some good in them, and while the caster did the most horendous acts, the first part to go was the best part of him. As small as it was, during the process, a part of the soul cried in anguish at the atrocities that it was experiencing, and that was the part that was captured by the ritual and sealed in the item.

But humans weren't meant to live with damaged souls, as they weren't bones or flesh which could be mended or healed, and to allow the caster to do just that, magic had to act as to balance things out. A fair trade was made without the knowledge of the wizard. A part of his earthly life for a part of his soul. But again, as souls weren't tangible, wizard haven't suddenly lost a limb or one of his possessions. The thing that was irreversibly taken from him or her, was an emotion.

There are lots of emotions that people posses, like affection, worry, interest or shame. But for the trade to be perfectly fair, the best had to be taken when the best part of a man was lost. The troubles and chaos that that act brought up happened some time later, when a person tried to continue their life as they were.

Love for example. If it was lost, a person was no longer able to feel the emotion. But as no one could feel nothing at all, they unconsciously substituted it with the next best thing. Lust. But lust was not love, as only love is best at being itself, and even if someone said that they didn't know what it was, they did. They could have never felt it themself, but subconsciously they knew all about it, be it only from observing other people. Without the even an ounce of emotion in their body, with them lusting after everything, they could never come close to what they though should be there, it destroyed any chance at romantic contact with anything, as it would all seem false. That brought anger, bitterness and revulsion to a persons life.

Voldemort made seven horcruxes, with the eight piece of his mangled soul still being in his body, and at every turn he chucked one emotion more. Of course, he could have dealt even with that kind of damage. If he was thoughtful enough, he might have dealt with things that were lost forever and be able to live a perfectly normal life. Happy? No. Content? Never. But perfectly normal in a sense that he could still be a part of the society.

Of course, that would need a logical kind of person doing much of self study and criticism, but a person who casually tears his soul apart, with additional delusions that they're perfect in every way is anything but.

Eight parts of a soul isn't the largest amount one can manage. In fact he could have probably made dozens more. What a person isn't capable of is doing infinite amount of Horcruxes, and it isn't about the problem of there being not enough soul left to divide.

The problem is that every next murder has to be even worse than the one previous. Since the most fragile part of the soul was already gone, a wizard had to give even greater shock to his system for the process to work. At one point, a person simply couldn't come up with anything else to do to torment his own soul. Truth be told, if it went that far, the person probably wasn't sane enough to do anything else than wallow in his internal conflicts, trying to patch empty spots his emotions left.

But through it all, probably no one that had ever used the ritual thought about what happened to the piece of soul they had locked to the item. Probably somewhere in their mind they thought that it simply resided there, soothed by some kind of stasis spell until it was called to help them be reborn.

Reality was the exact opposite. The creator of the process, seeing that there was an enormous gap in his sealing technique, at some point, seeing that there was no way to close it without making magic too unstable to work, started adding magic to make the item into a hell-hole, a personal death pit for any kind of soul to be too tormented to ever think of escaping.

It had the opposite effect, since after a while in such a place, the soul wanted nothing more than to leave as soon as possible, sticking to the nearest living thing with a soul that would be able to support the construct like a drowning person to the nearest thing that can float – even if it's another person that they're dragging under water.

Voldemort was probably the only wizard to risk doing more than one Horcrux, and he hid them separately because of the idea that one big stash could be easily found. By doing that, he unconsciously avoided a side effect of storing two pieces of the same soul near each other, as if any kind of soul would suffice, the same kind stuck to one another like pieces of the same puzzle do.

A young raven-haired boy on the other hand, threw two of those, a diary and a locket, into a small stone chamber, and throughout an entire year, probably for the first time since the world itself began, Horcruxes talked to one another...

* * *

Harry entered the heavily enchanted vault which he rented from the Gringotts something like a year ago, and looked at the two items lying on the stone floor. He stepped closer to the diary, and carefully picked it up, seeing nothing strange on the outside. When he opened it though, the change stared him stright in the eye.

Where previously only blank pages could be seen, now the pages were completely black, as if burnt in the fire, with only white spots on the now fragile parchment being from the ink, which now was a shining white on the dark background.

Harry looked between the diary and the pedant, and didn't know where he should start piecing this newest mystery.

* * *

Harry spent three days from when he returned from the school in his relatives house, locking himself in his room and not leaving it more often than he needed to. It was first time he ever did that, and probably the first time Dursley's were worried that something might have happened to him.

But he was fine, if only troubled, and the most of the time he spent meditating, looking at everything that there was to see in the little hut – the only part of his mind scape that appeared all on it's own.

What intrigued him the most was not the strangeness of the fact that he was carrying the part of the Voldemorts soul in him, but the connection from the child to the man. Because if there was some kind of connection, then:

"Magie, come here for a moment," he called, standing once again in front of the portrait, watching it intently.

"What is it?" she came from the crib, where she was playing with the baby.

"Have you noticed it moving or something?" he asked, not tearing his gaze away from the person on the canvas.

"Moving?" she scrunched her nose at that, "Like those people-statues? They're creepy actually, standing still but still they can throw glances at you whenever you're not looking," she shuddered at the thought, now watching the picture like it was something disgusting.

Harry chuckled at her answer, but got back on topic.

"Not like that. I mean moving like... I don't know, a tree perhaps. It's constantly growing, but only after long periods of time you notice that something actually changed," he said, still watching the painting.

"You know what, now that you mention it," she said, her face scrunching in concentration. She stepped closer to look at something in particular. But when she pressed her palm to the surface to check something out, she haven't met the rough texture of the paint covered canvas, but rather the water surface that at her touch gave in and started to suck her in rapidly. Before she vanished completely, Harry tried to hold on to her, which only resulted with both of them being thrown into the now full out vortex...

* * *

The Dark Lord was working in his study. He had much to work on, now that he was finally back in a proper body. But with all his plans for world domination, his thoughts kept going back to Potter and that night in the graveyard.

Did the boy truly get out by just a fluke like all his servants kept repeating? No, he was too collected for it to be only a chance. But then what kind of a spell had he used to move all of those statues? It would need a lot of focus to control all of them like that with anything that he himself might come up with.

At first, he thought that the night that happened almost fourteen years ago was his mistake. That he haven't checked all the wards on the house itself, thus missing some kind of a trap. But now he thought that maybe, just maybe, the boy really had something about him. Once again, the damned Prophecy kept nagging at the back of his mind – a matter he thought he had settled long ago.

A strange kind of wind swept through his chambers, tearing him from his thoughts and he noticed that his hand had stopped while he was in thought, making a large blot to form under the tip of his quill. He placed it aside, to clear his plan from such an imperfection, but when his gaze returned to the parchment, the mark was nowhere to be seen, with the ink gone completely. He frowned slightly, but then his expression changed to one of an unmasked shock, when ink repapered again, forming words in a way that was too familiar to him.

_Hello, Tom Riddle. My name is-_

That was all the parchment managed before not only it, but his entire desk burst into flames, and he jumped against the far wall, staring at his study being consumed by fire but not reacting, as for the first time in a long time, he had no idea what to do, since he wasn't exactly sure what had just occurred.

* * *

Harry and Magie were thrown back on the wooden floor of the hut, with both of them panting from what they've just experienced. Maybe their idea to check whether they could use magic while spying in the Dark Lord's mind wasn't the best one, but now they knew for sure to never do it again. But there was another thing that troubled Harry.

"That guy is a monster," he panted, finally managing to sit against the wall.

"Yeah, I felt it," Magie said, following him in getting more comfortable, "His entire body is built from pretty much nothing else but magic. It's no wonder I couldn't manage to do even the simplest of things with that much interference," she said while massaging her temples, then started to chuckle, "I think we blew up his study, or at least set it on fire," which made Harry smile as well.

"Fine, no more magic in there, but there is still his mind left," he said, and after glancing back at the portrait, "I don't think he even knows about this connection, and that's why he haven't closed it yet. So we have to think of someone suitable to babysit his mind from time to time..." no sooner had he said that, than they looked at each other and with the same slight smile said in unions:

"Nessie!"

"You rang?" they heard in response, and looked around the room for the newcomer. "Why are you guys sitting on the ceiling?" that question clued them on where to look, and even as Magie chuckled at Harry's disgruntled expression, they both turned their heads up.

There they saw a girl casually standing on the _proper_ ceiling, her blond hair sticking all over like she have had just dried her hair with a towel but forgot to comb them afterwards. Her polka-dots blouse and something of a tutu skirt, combined with striped knee-length socks and army boots told them exactly who it was. Mad Ness, Harry's internal collection of everything... uncommon.

Magie smiled up at the girl, and pointed to the chandelier right next to her, at which her mouth formed a perfect O, and she begun her trek across the ceiling, down the wall, and across the floor to join them.

Harry once again marvelled how his friends here, reminded him of the people in the real world. He had his set of twins, and there were Weasley's on the outside. Nessie strangely reminded him of Luna. Well, the Luna before she knew exactly what her animals were. He wondered shortly about the resemblance, but in the end he conceded that, even when everyone was unique, they had more in common than not, with only small margin of differences making each person into his or her own unique self – just like only a slight percentage of the genes made all the difference between apes and humans.

That train of thought ended when finally the girl with mismatched eyes – one blue and one green – stood in front of them.

"Where's the emergency?" she asked in a hurried voice, just before starting to do animal shades with her hands.

"We have a game for you," Magie said as if she was dealing with a five year old.

That stopped Ness, at which she jumped to her feet – problem was she was already standing.

"I love games!" she exclaimed with a clap, and when she opened her hands she noticed that unconsciously squashed a butterfly. She mourned it's death for a while, after which she picked the butterfly-shaped candy from her palm and ate it, thinking that it wouldn't do to waste such a tasty set of colours.

"We know," Magie continued with a smile, as Harry was too torn between laughing and having a migraine to talk, "Now see there?" she pointed to the painting, "There is a secret passage there-"

"Uuu, a mystery," Nessie nodded with a risen brow and while scratching her chin, and a lightning torn the sky, throwing strange shades at everyone present in the room, even as it was sunny afternoon outside.

"-and we would like for you to keep a man there company from time to time," Magie finally managed to get to the end of the sentence.

"Have he lost his puppy?" Nessie asked, already sad for the man.

"Yes, and now his stick is constantly complaining to him that he isn't thrown as often as he should be," Harry finally joined the conversation.

"I'm on it!" Ness said, somehow finally understanding the situation perfectly. Then she rolled up the sleeves at her sleeveless blouse and got to work, fishing a hat from the bunny that was skipping nearby, disappearing inside it after which the hat ate the bunny and rolled itself outside the door.

Harry, seeing her exit alone, already pitied Voldemort. Although he probably shouldn't, because there had to be a list of professional dangers of the Dark Lord occupation, and for sure being rendered insane by a figment of your enemy's imagination was somewhere near the top.

* * *

AN. A little shorter than my usual update, but I wanted to write this chapter for a long time, so I sat down and wrote it without much thought what else could be in here. Now I need to plan something else for the next chapter, so I don't know when the next update will be. But seeing that it's finally vacation time, I suppose chapters may start appearing at random times.


	65. Chapter 65

You know this latest Knock-Knock joke? It goes like this:

Knock-knock...

"Whose there?"

I'm not J. K. Rowling.

* * *

Hermione Granger was restless in her sleep. It wasn't because of some research she had left unfinished, a project that demanded her attention, or something she had to figure out... Well, maybe that last thing applied, since she could no longer put her finger on what exactly Harry Potter meant for her.

It started out so simple. He was her friend, and she enjoyed his company. But recently she started enjoying it just a little too much. But how could she help it? Beside the fact that he studied nearly as much as she did, he was fun and caring, even as much as to drag her out of the safety of her books that she relied on for so long, and made her have fun as well. Oh god how she loved to dance with him...

No, drag wasn't what he did, as she would follow him wherever was needed, so trustworthy and confident he was. The fact that he could explain why he was in control even as it seemed that he wasn't only added to his appeal.

She knew perfectly well that she had feelings for him, of one kind or another, and that wasn't her main concern. It was when that article came out, she panicked, that he might finally realise how she felt about him. That he might look at her like she was crazy, or silly. That he might shun her away...

But then he simply returned her to her previous spot. As his _friend_, and she couldn't help thinking that she didn't want that at all. She didn't want to be _just a friend_ any more...

Strangely, her mind kept returning to their goodbyes at the end of this year. During the train ride home he was somewhat distant, clearly concerned about one thing or the other. But when it came time to go their separate ways his face, especially his eyes, warmed up when he stood in front of her.

Earlier she thought just how good it felt to be close to him, how secure and welcome, and how she could have stayed like that for a really long time, but still concentrated on letting in just the right moment so he wouldn't notice anything wrong. But now in her dream, she remembered as clearly as she would be back there again, that he not only sighed softly but have been humming something quietly. And has she imagined it when he stopped right before the entrance and looked back at her, then shook his head with that mischievous smile of his.

His smile. Another thing she adored about him. Saying nothing about his laughter. Not when he chuckled, but when he was really _laughing_. It was like music in her ears that kept _running _in her head for hours. She could have easily be _skipping and a jumping_ because of it, if only it wouldn't make her look like-

Hermione sat in her bed abruptly, that train of though gone abruptly along with her sleepy state. What was left was a clear understanding of one simple fact.

"Brown Eyed Girl," she whispered, slightly out of breath because of the unrest her body was in, closely reflecting the state of her mind, "That's what he was humming," she finished her though, her head falling back to the pillow, with her hair spreading around her like a halo.

It wasn't soon after she woke up that she had gone back to sleep as she chewed her lip furiously, her mind swirling as she tried to figure out if he was intentionally humming about "_his brown eyed girl_" while holding her tigh. And if he was, then whether she should kiss or hex him. Or rather, which she should do first...

Of course, she couldn't know that a certain raven-haired boy had a streak of sleepless night himself, rather than worry, he used vision of her sparkling eyes to centre his otherwise rampant thoughts.

* * *

Harry had quite a lot to think about, and it wasn't because it seemed that everyone thought he would be better off being kept out of the loop during this entire summer. In fact, he chuckled slightly at every new letter that went along the lines of:

_We can't say much about you-know-what, obviously...We've been told not to say anything important in case our letters go astray... We're quite busy but I can't give you details here... There's a fair amount going on, we'll tell you everything when we see you..._

Well, if there was really something important going on wherever they were, like some secret war-meetings to organize fight with the Voldemort, he doubted that people his age were allowed. And even if, the fact that he had a way better understanding of what the man was troubling himself with brought a really large smile to his face.

* * *

A cloaked figure stepped into the chambers of the Dark Lord, his eyes cast to the floor as to not risk his Lord's anger. The man moved quickly, yet soundlessly, through the distance he had to cross before he found himself right in front of the throne. He knelt with his head bowed, but when he noticed that there was no hem of a robe for him to kiss, he risked a slight glance at the place Voldemort usually resided in. He was startled to noticed that the evil mastermind was not sitting in his throne.

He straightened slightly and scanned the chamber with his gaze. He blinked in surprise when he finally noticed the person he was looking for, but even with the unusual setting, he followed the strict protocol.

"My Lord, I bring news," he announced, at which a sharp "Shhh!" was the only response. He quickly returned to position of perfect supplication, kneeling with his head bowed, his eyes focused only on the ground right beneath him. Finally his Lord spoke again:

"Can you hear any mice?" Voldemort, still on all fours with his head pressed to a wall, asked in a hushed whisper, as not to scare something away. It was nothing like his usual way of speaking, and his servant's face reflected the bizarreness of the situation.

"Mice, my Lord?" the cloaked man asked in confusion, over the question itself, as well as the way it was asked in.

"Three blind mice went this way singing something," Voldemort answered, crawling along the wall with his head firmly placed against it, "Can you hear where they've went?"

The servants eyes bulged at the answer, and he hurriedly scrambled to his feet with a short, "I'll come some other time then, my Lord," and went out as fast as he could, while Voldemort was busy with muttering that he could really use Wormtail at moments like this, as the man would certainly be able to find the rodents, and perhaps even ask them where was the breach in the wards that they used to enter the Dark Lord's domain...

* * *

Oh, no. Harry wasn't concerned with Voldemort planing anything, as Ness took such a great job of keeping him company. As for the person she was, she was surprisingly casual with the way she dealt with the man. She only commented that she had a mission, and no one became insane over a day. Seeing what happened with the Dark Lord himself, he could only watch her at work.

She haven't brought the big guns all from the start. Rather than that, she started small, with things like a feeling that an ant was crawling over his arm, or a sound of water dripping from somewhere. Over time, she would abandon those to which he reacted badly, and add to those which he took _liking to_, as she called it when he stepped from his throne and, with a frown on his face, begun searching the source of the leak.

In not more than a month, she turned a collected and logical man, even if he was a psychopath, into a disturbed man with couple of sets of hallucinations playing at random times of the day. Harry didn't know how far Voldemort was from sustaining insanity all on his own, without Nessie's prodding, or how long would it take for every single Death Eater being a complete basket case from serving under such a Lord. But seeing that Nessie was planning to send Michael J. Frog into action next, it wasn't that long, as his songs were impossible to get out of ones head when planted there once, and Voldemort surely would curse anyone who even breathed in tune with any of those.

Truth be told, Harry even haven't thought about the Dark Lord that often, only going on a trip with Ness when it looked like she was going to do something particularly fun. Other than that, Harry had other things to think about. And quite literally too.

Whenever Nessie came back from one of her ventures into the Dark Lord's mind, or maybe in times when he became lucid again, things started to appear in the little hut where the scared child lived. At first, when a postcard-from-Hogwarts appeared stuck to a cabinet near the kitchen, Harry thought that it might be some stray thoughts that got past as the painting-portal was being used. Maybe it even was a start of a plan to take control of the castle.

But then a picture of a shoreline – a cliff to be exact – with something like a cave in it was hanging on the wall upon one of his arrivals, and he simply couldn't understand what that place could have to do with anything. Then he noticed that the snake that was connected with everything settled under the portrait, hissing whenever anyone tried to move it, and returning to it's seemingly designed place when only an opportunity arose.

He thought about that fact, once again examining the simple painting of waves crashing against the cliff, but then remembered about something he had nearly forgotten about.

"Magie, you said you did that toy over the crib, right?" she looked at him with confusion all over her face, but still nodded. "Where were the things lying before?"

She looked at the toy for an instance, clearly recalling the exact places, and then frowned when she scanned the room again. She stood quickly, leaving the snake alone, finally knowing why it has been returning there, and what Harry suspected. She picked the items and started placing them around the room in the exact places she found them in.

The locket went on the nail the portrait of the shoreline hung upon, with the locket itself hanging right over the cave. She placed the diadem in the cup, on which door the postcard with image of Hogwart's castle was placed. The ring was once again hidden under a loose floorboard some space away from the crib. Cup was placed in one of the two little rooms that was part of the hut, but which they didn't use that often as they always spent their time in the main room. Even as diary was no longer part of the set, she placed it in the other room before being done with her work, and returning to her seat near the crib, leaving everything for Harry's inspection.

He watched quickly in two small rooms, seeing nothing that was different from the time he saw them before, so returned to the main room, and once again regarded the seaside painting carefully. He could have sworn that for a moment he thought that Voldemort was unconsciously leaving them tips about where a piece of his soul was stored, but with him finding the locket nowhere near the cave, it was spoiling his theory.

But hen he glanced back to the snake, and conceded that, in the long time between their creation and now, there was always the possibility for the item being moved, for whatever reason or occurrence there might be. That's why he settled on the cupboard with Hogwart's postcard on it, thinking that if he could find the diadem there, then his theory was more probable than not.

* * *

Harry's regular schedule he followed during the summer was somewhat spoiled one evening when his Aunt announced that they were going to their regular dinner, before stopping herself outside of the threshold of his room, just to turn and ask: "Would you like to come with us?"

He was somewhat surprised to hear that, but then remembered the short conversation with his Aunt that she was trying to slowly tell everyone that he wasn't as bad of a boy that the gossip led people to know, only for him to smile at her and say that it wasn't so important, as people could think whatever they liked, since they didn't want to know him at all, only using him, or other peoples problems in general, to not speak about those they had themselves. His Aunt was somewhat surprised at the response, at which he could only shrug.

In the end he agreed to go, not really hoping for loads of fun. Rather than that, he thought that it was nothing wrong to go to a boring party simply to assure yourself that it was boring. To others it might be stupid, but he wouldn't ever call it wasteful, as it not only showed you just how dull such a thing could be, but also reassured you and left no more place to thoughts that it just might be fun. On the other hand, if he continuously attempted such events, loudly moaning how stupid something like that is, he would call ,not only himself but others as well, total imbeciles that such people were.

The evening went just how he thought it would be, with people from all around the neighbourhood gathering in preferred restaurants for their weekly, "Everyone do it, so we do it too," meeting, during which there was a lot of greeting and handshaking between people who knew themselves oh-so-well.

The only difference between the previous times was that nearly everyone left their cars in their driveways, since, with the heat reigning the summer, and the dust sticking to everything, no one would risk coming in a dirty car. So, even as the evening went by peacefully, his Uncle still had a reason to grumble when their bus broke down along the way. But as it was only couple of stops from their home, Petunia proposed a walk in such a wonderfully warm summer evening.

The real trouble started when the group of four was walking down the alley off Magnolia Street, as Vernon wasn't used walking long distances and would take even that kind of a short-cut. But that was when a shudder went along Harry's spine, and he noticed other shaking as well. But while others might think that it was a sudden change of wind due to an incoming storm, he knew that kind coldness reaching down right to his bones. He glanced both ways, while alerting his relatives of what was going to happen.

"Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon," he started to gain their attention, and they stopped to watch their nephew watch around in alert, "I know you might not approve, but there is something dangerous nearby, and I need to do some of the... freaky stuff,"

Vernon and Petunia exchanged glances, while Dudley himself begun scanning the narrow alley, unconsciously rising his guard up out of habit. But in the end, there was so much finality in Harry's voice that they recognised that it would happen, no matter if they approved or not. They stepped back under the wall, dragging Dudley with them.

Harry sighed in relief that his relatives haven't questioned or argued with him, and concentrated on what he was about to do. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes and concentrating on some happy memories he had. He opened his eyes to see a sparklingly white lily blossoming in the palm of his head, and he let his breath, blowing on it until a couple of petals haven't started swirling in the air. He didn't release them all, since he wouldn't want to exhaust himself like the first time he had done that.

He was just barely done when two cloaked figures came floating from both ends of the alley, taking rasping breaths as they did, and reducing the temperature of the air with every inch they neared. He pointed one hand at each creature, making the small cloud of petals split and fly towards their assigned target. Dementors retreaded, and the threat was gone before it even got close.

Dursleys stood against the wall, shivering with the ever increasing cold, and they, for the first time in their lives, hoped that Harry knew what he was doing. It looked like the teen was blowing in his hands, and they started to do it too, as it was good idea considering the circumstances. It was bloody freezing by then.

Then the raven-haired boy pointed with his hands in opposite ends of the alley, and a strange tingling warmth with a surprising cheery mood attached to it swept over the family. After that Harry once again scanned the alley, after which he nodded and turned to his relatives staring at him in amazement.

"T-that's it?" Vernon stuttered in his surprise.

"Yes, it's safe for now, but I guess we should be moving," Harry said, starting to walk again, but being stopped by his uncles voice.

"But Petunia said that you need... that stick of yours, and there's always lots of flashing lights and bangs and a mess left afterwards..." his uncle rambled, clearly amazed at the event, and Harry noticed his aunt watching him curiously.

He bit back a groan, thinking that since Dursley's never wanted to be near anything magical, they wouldn't question whatever he did. He totally forgot that Petunia watched his mother doing magic on multiple occasions.

"Well, there are always two ways of doing things. Good... and better," he summarised with a slight smile, even as he was scratching the back of his head thinking what he was going to do about it now. "But we really need to get moving," he reminded, in part to get some time to think about what he was about to do.

They walked in a more hurried pace to their home, but while everyone got inside, Harry managed to receive note through an owl, after skimming which he glanced in all direction to make sure no one was following them, then entered the building himself.

Leaving dealing with the note for later, he settled on the only thing he could do in such a situation. Even as he couldn't introduce Magie properly, he did explain the substantial difference between the wand and wandless magic, which enabled him to do magic without rising anyone's suspicions. Strangely, Dursleys haven't accused him of doing it to mess with their lives, instead his aunt asked if there was a better way of doing it, why wasn't everyone else taught it _properly_.

At that, not wanting to divulge in all the details about how wandless magic was hidden and mostly forgotten over the years, he simply stated that "it was not an easy thing to learn". A result of that simple statement surpassed his wildest expectations, and he sat there, stunned at his uncle laughing his full belly laughter over the fact that all those imbeciles were still waving their sticks while _his nephew_ was way above their level. He couldn't help but grin at what could only be pride in the man's voice.

By now, Harry haven't remembered most of the time he spent with his relatives, but he thought that this entire evening might just be the nearest thing he remember of Privet Drive being a home...

* * *

From that night, it seemed that that strange warm feeling from their encounter with Dementors settled for good in the walls of Privet Drive number four, with Vernon on occasion asking shyly for another _trick_, probably afraid that Petunia might catch him with his hand in the cookie-jar. Then Harry would indulge him with something fun, but not too flashy, smiling meanwhile over the change in the wording. "That stick" was forgotten forever, as Harry had no need for it, but as for the rest, "freaky business" became "tricks". It was no more dangerous, but rather entertaining, and there was no more strain put on Harry. In fact, he became treated in the family like he was... well, a skilled magician. Somewhere in there it was simply forgotten that illusionism was not entirely the same thing...

Harry could enjoy that for couple of days, since, like it was agreed upon one year previous, he was going to stay for the remainder of his vacation with Sirius. It was not like he wouldn't enjoy his time with his godfather, but for once, it was strange leaving the Dursley's, knowing that they might actually miss him.

Nevertheless, he met with Sirius in the backyard of Dursley's home, and travelled with him to his home just like the previous year, only to find Number Twelve, only to find it more crowded than usual. Aside from Sirius and Remus as the usual occupants, there was an entire Weasley family, Mad-eyed Moody, Auror Shacklebolt if he remembered correctly... in fact, there seemed to be a lot of people streaming in and out of the house that he didn't know. But before he could ask Sirius what the hell was happening, he was pushed upstairs while all the adults gathered in the kitchen.

He went to the room with the most noise in it, and obviously found the Twins working on one of their inventions or another, with Ron and Ginny playing chess in the corner. Upon noticing him, Twins hastily took him to their little project to ask him what he thought about it, but he had some questions he needed answered.

"Is this all of the people our age I'm going to see?" he asked first, at which Twins looked hurt.

"My, my, my, Harry," George started their twin-speak.

"Are we not enough for you?" Fred continued as his twin looked too pained to continue.

"Who else were you expecting?" they asked together.

"Hermione?" he started, making twins waggle their brows at one another in a knowing way. He just rolled his eyes at them, not interrupting himself at all. "Neville? Luna? Rose? Any of them?"

"We don't know. We're here since our parents are in the Order," Fred said with a shrug, but before Harry could ask about that, George interrupted.

"Aren't we enough for you?" he asked.

"Do you want the straight or fun answer?" Harry challenged, at which Twins actually did a small conference in their corner. Finally they came back and, surprisingly, chose the straight answer.

Harry shrugged, and answered, "I heard downstairs that we're nearly all here, so I just wanted to know who is still missing," making twins snort and shake their heads.

"That was truly weak. First of all, they were talking that they were almost ready to start the meeting. And second of all," Fred continued, seeing that Harry wanted to interrupt him.

"We're going to tell you about it only when you give us a proper answer to our previous question," George finished it for him.

Harry just smiled slightly, and pointed to the Twins, "You asked if you're too much for me?" he asked and they nodded, "You for me?" he snorted while pointing between them, "You..." he stopped his bragging, as his face got a confused look, "Truth be told, who are you?" he asked, looking completely lost, "Who are you and where is my horse?" he asked, and they grinned at each other that it was more like it. Then begun rolling on the floor as Harry went to search for his lost nag, Edgar.

Satisfied with the show, at the end of which Harry did couple of bows to the applause of the audience, they settled to tell him all they knew about the Order of the Phoenix.

* * *

To say that Sirius was surprised when, after the meeting ended and he went to properly greet his godson, he learned that Harry was _invited_ to an official hearing at the Ministry would be an understatement. He asked for what happened, but Harry, knowing exactly what he was about to do during the hearing, stuck to the official version and said that it had to be some grand misunderstanding.

Still, a week after he had left the Dursleys, both of them left for the Ministry an hour earlier, since Sirius had some matters to deal with himself, only to discover that the hearing was moved not only to a different room, but was held an hour earlier as well. Harry, seeing no notification of that fact, thought that it was "show time", and after telling so to Sirius, they strode to the courtroom number ten like they owned the house. Harry was going to show they just why they were allowed to do so.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," Cornelius exclaimed in surprise just as the clock chimed eight in the morning, "So glad we can see you this morning-"

"Especially as I have not been notified of the last minute changes. You know, things like room on totally different level or that I had to come here an hour earlier than was previously planned,"

"Not informed? That's sad to hear," Fudge said with his best politician I-feel-your-pain smile, "But all ended well, and we're now here. I can even see that you were able to find a formidable representation for yourself, young man," he said, turning to Sirius, "It's good to see you again, Mr. Black,"

"Thank you, _Mr._ Fudge," Sirius replied with his best fake-for-all-to-see smile, putting so much emphasis on the mister, that it made Harry cringe. Was that really what his godfather thought meant to be subtle? Still, Fudge took the bait.

"That's Minister Fudge, if you please," said the self important man, thinking that he worked too hard for the title for the people to forget it. That was exactly what Sirius wanted.

"Then it's Lord Black over here, thank you, and that young man, as you called him, is Lord Potter if you'll be so good to remember," Sirius said with a smirk, as Fudge turned a little red, "As for the representation, Lord Potter there is enough to handle everything, and I'm simply waiting, as we have a bet on a snail race, so could we get this thing going? I wouldn't want to miss even the first race. They can be so exciting, you know..." Sirius continued, making Harry rub his forehead, since he didn't want to watch all the faces people made during his godfather's speech.

Fudge turned a more burgundy colour by then, and needed to clear his throat couple of times to regain control over himself. Finally, he managed, "Well then, please sit, _Lord Potter_," the words barely making it out of his mouth.

"No, thank you. I doubt this will take long, and I don't feel like making squats today," at which Fudge cleared his throat couple of times more.

"Yes, so without further interruptions, you are charged with doing magic in front of the muggles which is an offence under the Statute of Secrecy," Harry smirked at the shortened version of the protocol, in place of the official one, "do you plead guilty or not?"

"Not guilty," Harry said for all to hear, and before anyone could take over, he continued, "In fact, I would like to see at least the copy of the protocol that registered the spell that I supposedly performed," he stated confidently, at which Fudge's eyebrows rose to his hairline, before a pleased smile blossomed on his face, as he was clearly thinking that Harry was digging his own grave.

Harry only hid his smile that Fudge will be disappointed by the turn of the events. He knew right now that there wouldn't be anything statng that he did any kind of spell, because he long ago understood how the things Ministry had for registering magic worked. It was easy, as long as you listened to what people in the school were saying about warnings of under-aged magic.

Since only muggle-born's received those, it was easy to say that there was something about the magical families that unabled such warnings being set, or more probably, being triggered. Wards? They probably helped, but not every family could afford perfect wards which would send not a single ounce of magic out. Then it has to be the fact that in wizarding families was more than one wizard, and even as casting of a spell can be noticed, only investigation in the trace of who was the one to cast it. It was a tedious work, as each and every case would need people to be sent, and even then it wasn't probable to find in highly magical environment find enough evidence to simply be sure. It was easier on the department, in the work force which meant the budget, to think that magical parents reprimanded their children that to waste time on finding who exactly was it, to simply serve them a warning.

Since only the spike in the energy that occurs each time there is wand spell cast is being detected, Harry was comfortable with casting spells left and right as long as he wanted. It was for the single fact that wandless magic didn't produce any spikes, as even when Magie, supercharged with the energy from the sword of the Gryffindor, would stand right next to him, if registered at all, it would only look as simply another wizard being in his proximity. As strange it would be when they analysed that both signatures were the same, they wouldn't bother, as it would look that no spells were cast at all.

But while he was waiting for the obvious to happen, he wanted to add an insult to the injury.

"Truth be told, I would also like to see records of trials for some of the Death Eaters," his statement stopped the quiet muttering that started as nothing happened while everyone waited for the evidence.

"How is it significant for this hearing?" Madam Bones asked before anyone else found their voice.

"I just wanted to hear if any of the mass murderers had the "Did spells in front of the muggles" accusation when they were on trial," Harry responded like it answered everything.

"Don't be absurd, y-Lord Potter," Fudge exclaimed in irritation, reminding himself of the title in the last moment.

"Oh, then, while it is pleasing to see all the faces gathered here, I would like to know, Minister Fudge, why a full body of Wizengamot bothered over such an insignificant matter as mine?" Harry asked, and even as Fudge turned burgundy, he stopped himself, because, just like Harry thought, there was no answer to that.

Minister was saved by one of the Ministry workers coming through a side entrance and handing a lengthy report to Percy Weasley, the scribe for this _event_. The worker and Percy whispered animatedly between themselves for a minute or two, before Percy, with disgruntled face, turned to Minister and slightly shook his head. But before his fun could end too quickly for his taste, Harry had another idea.

"I just remembered, that I have the right to face my accusers," Harry stated, the hall quieted, and to his surprised pleasure, no one from the crowd stood up at his challenge. "Oh? So, now we have no evidence to an unimportant case which no one filed?" Harry taunted, and looked over the faces of people gathered in the room for someone beside the Minister, since he was too important to do something like this himself, who reacted to his words. He settled on a toad-like woman who was following Vernon-approved set of colours when someone was seriously pissing the man off.

"Give me that!" Fudge hissed to Percy, tearing the official list of charges from him, "The parchment is issued in the name of the Wizengamot," he read angrily.

"Yet no one of the present members of the Wizengamot stood at my call. I mean, have I confused courtrooms somehow or have all the people present somehow resigned their positions in the Wizengamot over the last ten minutes?" Harry asked while looking for any kind of confirmation, confusion dripping off of him.

"Lord Potter!" Minister exclaimed, "Stop turning this meeting into a mockery!" he continued, only couple of colours behind the toad-like woman.

"This was a mockery from the moment I got that warning and I'm going to tell you exactly why," he started, and couldn't help at Sirius pose, as he was currently reclining in his seat in a position clearly stating 'go tell them!', as opposed to him snoring through the previous part of the proceedings.

"Between the time that was on the warning, a very specific time indeed, and me and my family coming home, there was no more than fifteen minutes. Given the time it would take to register the events, fill all the forms and all that, it would take longer, but lets say that only the flight itself lasted fifteen minutes. Now, Surrey is around thirty miles from London, is it not?" he asked and without waiting for anyone to answer, continued, "Since math is simple, please tell me, who of those gathered here today saw an owl, even wizards companion, that can fly at the average speed of one hundred and twenty miles per hour? I mean, from when does the usual owl deliver mail like a phoenix?"

His last question was so much more profound because just in that moment there was a flash of phoenix fire, as Fawkes appeared, baring a note for Dumbledore, but the mystical bird thrilled a happy song when he noticed Harry with Magie standing nearby, as she was adding her own ideas how to improve his speech.

The Headmaster himself had been present throughout most of the proceedings. He had been late just couple of minutes after learning that Harry's hearing had been moved, but by then Harry had everything firmly under control, and he didn't want to intrude, so simply waited patiently by the door. Now, that all eyes were on him, he did an apologetic bow to the Wizengamot, receiving a nod from Sirius and Harry in return as a means of hello. He read his note, and had to excuse himself as there were more pressing matters during which he actually was needed.

"Now, I don't really need to say that that note was sent way way before the entire event, do I?" Harry asked, at which Fudge grit his teeth and shook his head sharply, "Can I help with any other obvious thing you're mi-"

"NO!" Cornelious exclaimed, then cleared his throat and tried again, "No, Lord Potter," he said with a strained voice, but still going more purple by the second, "You are free to go," he managed, and Harry and Sirius looked at themselves, shrugged, and casually strolled out of the room, missing the moment when Fudge torn the accusations list to shreds and begun eating the pieces out of anger.

* * *

AN. I had Sirius introducing Harry to the Order in mind, but seeing as this chapter had been tiring enough, I skipped right to the hearing, and moved that to and undisclosed chapter somewhere in the future. Though, I have another idea that I will have to add somewhere in the previous chapters, as I forgot to address the matter...

* * *

It was some time into the school year, and their little study group was hard at work, when Harry couldn't help but notice Hermione watching him curiously. Knowing that look, he set his work aside to help her with any pressing matters she would like to address before she thought about it till the point she burst with questions.

"Now, what can I help you with, Hermione?" he asked, giving her his undivided attention.

She blushed slightly at being found out so easily, but still asked her question.

"Well, Neville earlier said that the House has to have a Lord, even if only the acting one, as the responsibilities had to be maintained. Yet you never leave the school for any meetings of the Wizengamot or anything of the like. I was just wondering how you deal with that,"

"Well, I just vote opposite to the Malfoy," Harry said with a shrug, like it explained everything.

"B-But you can't do that!" Neville exclaimed, gaping at his friend.

"Well, it's strange, but I'm perfectly able to do that since it's happening during every Wizengamot meeting," then seeing that Neville was composing himself to rebuke, he tried different approach. "Neville, would you say that Malfoy is biased and selfish man who wouldn't do anything at all until it suited him or otherwise had something in in for him?"

As much as Neville didn't want to, he nodded slightly at that.

"Then if he votes at something, the opposite, logically, would stand in the best interest of other people?" Harry asked, even as he raised his hand to stop Hermione from pointing the obvious hole in that logic.

"Well, in most cases, yes," Neville gave the safe answer, making Harry smile.

"Now, in _other_ cases," Harry continued, looking back to Hermione who smiled slightly at that, "Whatever Malfoy votes for might be just whatever strikes his interest or simply whatever he decides at the time, since there always has to be some kind a vote. Me voting against it, is equalling the tally, giving place for people interested in the curent topic for real,"

"But that leaves the last case when he doesn't vote at all," Neville said while scrunching his nose, since withholding a vote still counts.

"Oh, right. That's why I allowed Majordomo of House Potter to vote in my name," Harry said with a slight smile.

"Majordomo of House Potter?" Hermione repeated, confused, "Who's that?"

At Harry's dangerously mischievous smile his friends wondered if they truly wanted to know.

* * *

It was the first session of the Wizengamot, in fact the very first voice, and already there was a matter of a standstill with only one voice needed to settle the matter for good.

"House Potter votes For," a voice sounded in the hall, and everyone turned for the designed balcony.

"Now, this is absurd," Malfoy stood up with a snarl, seeing what was happening, "I vote to exclude House Potter from voting in this entire session because of the joke it is trying to do from this assembly by sending a House Elf in their name,"

"The Majordomo of House Potter, Free-elf Dobby," everyone groaned at the love for the titles that all elves seemed to share,"would like to see rules of the Wizengamot which are regulating acceptable species allowed into these noble meetings," he stated and waited patiently.

Chief Warlock Dumbledore, scanned the people present with his twinkling eyes, and settled at the strange looking elf.

"I'm sorry to say that we cannot present those rules to the representative of House Potter," he said, waiting for the obvious response.

"Why is that, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump, Grand Sorcerer, owner of Order of Merlin – First Class, Professor Albus Percival Wulfic Brian Dumbledore, sir?" Dobby asked to be able to relate everything that occured back to Harry.

"Because there are no such rules, Majordomo of House Potter, Free-elf Dobby," Dumbledore answered with his grandfatherly smile firmly in place knowing full well that there was simply no precedent in the past that any Lord would chose a non human to represent him. He didn't mind that people groaned in unions whe he, too, got dragged in the whole title-stating-thing.

"Thank you very much, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump, Grand Sorcerer, owner of Order of Merlin – First Class, Professor Albus Percival Wulfic Brian Dumbledore, sir," Dobby said, but then before he sat down, remembered something else, "And, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump, Grand Sorcerer, owner of Order of Merlin – First Class, Professor Albus Percival Wulfic Brian Dumbledore, sir,?"

"Yes, how can I be helpful to the House Potter now?" the man asked kindly.

"House Potter still votes For on the current matter," Dobby said and sat back in his seat as the proceedings for the case that was accepted continued, pleased with himself that he minded Harry's words to be _extremely_ polite to everyone during the entire thing.

* * *

AN2. As to the comment left by **notyou** (now I understand how frustrating it can be when you can't respond to a review), I'm not a lot about advertising (in fact, totally forgot about the summary), but if you, or anyone else, think that this story is even somewhat good, be free to pass the link to your friends. You saying that it's a story worth reading is all the advertisement (and encouragement) that I need.


	66. Chapter 66

I haven't been invited to the premier of the last Harry Potter movie ever, so I can't possibly be anybody who was there, including J. K. Rowling, obviously...

* * *

Harry rarely, if ever, thought of himself as someone special. Truth be told, he couldn't think of himself as such. While he understood that some people may perceive things he did or said as innovative, revolutionary or anything of that kind, to him, it was nothing big for the simple fact that he knew it all already. To him, everything he did was mundane, and it was simply hard to perceive why others didn't notice some of the simplest solutions.

But even as he could point some of those things to them, he wasn't omnipresent or even all knowing, even if only in a sense that he would know exactly where he should be, for his help to produce the best results, and as such, world more often than not took it's own course, making random set of problems to appear, which, in the end, would affect him in one way or another.

Right now he was thinking that with everything he had been doing over the summer, he wasn't able to follow the political scene closely – as if he would ever need to, with people dragging out one case over unthinkable periods of time, quarrelling over details to the point when they finally find consensus, the problem would have escalated to even greater proportions, needing another vote and discussion to be raised, or died down from it's own course, which made all that power struggle to be nothing more than wasteful.

But on this occasion he omitted the fact that Dumbledore was no longer as on top of his game as he used to be, and it seemed that he stepped on too many toes one time too much, and Ministry got tired of Hogwart being an impervious stronghold – not only from the armed enemies, but also, in this case, outside of Ministry's influence of any kind – and an Educational Decree #22 was passed, giving them the right to appoint teachers, if the current Headmaster was unable to find suitable replacement.

Harry wouldn't be surprised if that new law was used this very year, what with Mad-eye returning to active duty after he caught word of Voldemort's return, and with such a revolutionary change to the previous status quo, it couldn't be avoided stating just what a _suitable replacement_ meant. Because, in the end, the government could be efficient in it's actions, if it only wanted to be. The problem was that it rarely was determined enough to simply do things, since each party was more keen on making everyone else do things _their way_.

His musings were interrupted by the compartment door sliding open, and Hermione entered, making Harry shake his head at the strange fact that she had again, like during any previous ride to Hogwarts, managed to get her trunk stuck. He put his newspaper aside and got up to help her, but haven't even took half a step towards her, when she straightened and turned to him. It was also the moment when Harry, for the first time since he had met Hermione for the first time, saw her too perplexed to know what to do.

At first she stared at him with a strange kind of look, one that Harry never noticed her have before, and had no idea what he should think of it. Then she made a move as if to close the gap between them, but froze when she became aware of Luna, sitting quietly in the corner reading her own newspaper. Then Hermione's cheeks got a soft pink tinge to them, and she glanced around the room, seemingly to grasp at anything to talk about, different than what just happened – and truth be told, Harry wasn't sure what was her initial thought. Then she found something to talk about, and her eyes sparkled while a pleased smile blossomed on her face.

"Guess what I can finally do," she said, and without waiting for Harry's response, levitated couple of candies from her pocket and made them hover right in front of him. Harry grinned while snatching them from the air, as it was perfectly clear, even telling from her expression alone, that there wasn't a wand anywhere near her hand.

"Thanks," he said with a chuckle, popping one into his mouth. Then he turned to their other friend and said, "Here, Luna, have some," while extending his hand.

The Ravenclaw girl looked over her paper and smiled.

"Thank you, Harry," she said, but instead of taking one of the candies, she grabbed the wrapper he held between his fingers, and in the time she brought it to her face, it folded itself into an origami flower, which then simply turned into a freshly-cut daisy, making her smile at the smell, "They're quite lovely,"

He shook his head at the illogical-logic they all appreciated quite often by now, and turned to Hermione in time to see her roll her eyes, probably thinking the same thing. He finally go to helping her with her trunk, but when they sat down, it was clear that she still had something on her mind.

"What is it?"

"Well, I was just thinking," she started, "Even as you were right that one summer was enough for us to regain our magical reserves for the next year, I still don't understand why no one is ever able to do any wandless magic during that time,"

"Oh, but they are," Harry replied, and smiled at her confused look, "But the reason why they think it's nothing to bother about, is because they do wandless magic only in stressful situations. Anger, surprise, fear... All that makes our magic react, since it's basic instinct to protect ourselves. They don't mind it happened without them holding a wand because they think it's accidental. But I've been telling you that what separates accidental magic from wandless one, is the element of control. Since you've been practising that control throughout the previous year, you just had to wait for the energy to catch up to you,"

Hermione nodded, seeing that as another small thing people do, simply to miss that peculiarity in their life that doesn't exactly fit to their plan. She was learning quite a lot about those from the very moment Harry told them about wandless magic... But before she got dragged into all those little things she had been missing herself, she shook her head and looked at him expectantly.

"We should be going soon to the prefects meeting to discuss the rounds and some of... the rules..." she said, but seeing him simply sitting there with that amused expression, she noticed something strange. "Why don't you have a prefect's badge on your robes, Harry?"

"Maybe because I'm not a prefect?" Harry gave the most obvious answer, but seeing her displeased frown he continued with a more proper answer. "Ron got the badge," he said with a shrug.

"RON!" Hermione exclaimed in shock, as she could right now imagine just how it will be, with him not being the most hard-working or reliant person. "But why Ron? I mean-" Hermione kept moaning.

"Well, who else would you like it to be?" Harry interrupted, "Seamus and Dean aren't any better, with them constantly keeping only to their own business, and Neville, even as I love the guy, he haven't been the most respect invoking figure throughout his stay in the castle. So that leaves Ron as the only boy in our-"

"Now hold on just a minute," Hermione interfered, "You haven't told us why exactly you couldn't be the Prefect. I mean, why you shouldn't be, since you're so much hard-working, you have better grades, you can deal with any situation that might occur, and- Why are you laughing?" she said, looking at him strangely.

"It's because, that even while you're right, you see the wrong side of the thing, and that's why you don't understand that Professor McGonagall made the right decision," at her confused gaze, he gave her a more detailed hint, "It isn't about who I am, and not even what excellent traits I posses. It's all about how I behave," and that got her thinking. "Okay, to explain it better, lets talk about war for a while,"

At that, Luna put her newspaper down and listened more closely to the conversation, because Harry's comparisons, at times, amazed even her.

"During a war, each side of the conflict has it's rights, and the difference in that is the reason for the war. Now, even as they try to win, soldiers on both sides try to restrain themselves from using "any means necessary" to win, not only because of the law preventing them, but in most cases simply to be able to get back home and still think of themselves as human beings. But there is one group in the entire army that is an exception to that rule. Spies. The very reason they exist is to do every single thing to accomplish their goal. Kill, maim, lie... anything that gets them closer to finishing their mission or maintaining their cover is acceptable. But because of that, the only form of recognition they can get is being one of the nameless heroes that gave their life to protect their homeland. Well, that's only if they die, since, if they would live to see the end of the wall, the most they get is being exonerated of all war crimes before being forgotten as a sore subject never to be touched during any future discussions or negotiations," Harry stopped to see if they were still with him.

"Now, how this translates to life in Hogwarts, is the constant struggle between students wanting to have as much fun as possible, and teachers trying to maintain discipline,"

"And how does it make you a spy?" Hermione interrupted, wanting to get straight to the point.

"Because, in theory, I work for both sides," Harry replied making her frown, "Think about it. I, Rose, Twins... Our little group entertain students, and during that, we break enormous amount of rules. We cover our tracks and leave no evidences for obvious reasons, but even with that, everyone still know that it was us who did it all. Yes, even the teachers," Harry said, seeing that Hemione was going to interfere again, "And even as they know about it, they don't do anything too harsh to us. They don't even try that hard to catch us red handed. Why, you might ask... Because we're lesser of two evils. We do break the rules, but we don't do anything over the top. The "working for both sides " I mentioned means that, yes, we do entertain students, but we give them just enough for them to not go looking for their own fun. That leaves students happy and teachers with less controlling to do. But a teacher will never thank us for what we do, just like there are never spies mentioned by names. All we can count for is to be left alone to do our work in peace, and maybe that occasional silent nod from a teacher when we're leaving a part of the castle that just got trashed," Harry finished with a smile.

"You know," Luna spoke up, "I never thought about the fact that in every generation of Hogwart's graduates, there seams to always be a group of "Untouchable pranksters, roaming the castle for seven straight years". Now it makes a lot more sense,"

Before anyone could add anything else, a flustered Ron stuck his head into the compartment.

"Here you are," he said to Hermione, "I've just got a dressing down from the Head Boy that all newly appointed prefects should be attending the meeting by now,"

Harry smiled at Hermione's roll of eyes while she dully followed the redhead. By now, it really was quite close to the time they should be departing, and more and more people began storming into the train with every passing minute. Neville was next to join their compartment, and it was obvious, even without him doing anything, that he too was perfectly capable of doing wandless magic after that single summer.

A minute or so before the train left the station, Rose zoomed past their compartment, putting her hand against the glass when she seemingly stumbled passing some other student. They haven't had the occasion to be offended that she haven't stopped to say hello because when she was long gone, what was left was a foggy hand-print on the glass which, first of all, shouldn't be there in the first place, but more surprisingly, was in a shape of the Roadrunner that vanished after a while. Harry was somewhat worried before, thinking that since Rose was even younger than Luna, her body might have been more interested with growing than with producing magical energy. But now he could only grin at her abilities clearly stated, and the obvious message that she had to run.

Suddenly, the train gave a jerk, and slowly started it journey to the magical school. But it seemed that this year, Draco wasn't wasting any time in his quest to go around the train and be as annoying as he possibly could, as just moments after the train after train left the platform, he and his two goons stood in the doorway of Harry's compartment, set on badmouthing him for all it's worth. But since it was Harry, the blonde Slytherin never got a chance.

"Oh, Draco, just the person I wanted to talk to," Harry shot off immediately after the doors slid open, making Draco scowl, "I wanted to deal with it earlier, but I thought that even a letter would be too impersonal in this situation. But since I couldn't get hold off of anyone, please tell your father as soon as you see him that I'm so very, very sorry that I've thrashed their party at the end of the previous year," he said with the deepest sincerity, making Malfoy gap at him, proving Harry true that he already knew all about the "party" they were talking about. "I mean, I'm not even sure if it's totally my fault, what with them throwing such a big surprise on me without previous notice. It's no wonder I've panicked. But as it is, I'm perfectly willing to consider joining any other festivities, even only if to apologise in person," Harry continued, even as Draco started pushing Crabbe and Goyle aside, to make his escape from this loon as quickly as possible. "Although, parties aren't really my deal. I'm more into some practical activities. Hiking perhaps. Or camping. Hey! DRACO! Ask them if they would be willing to go fishing sometime!" Harry screamed after the boy who was literally running away.

"What was his problem?" asked a student looking out from another compartment, since, given the grace with which Malfoy's goons moved, the stampede just couldn't be omitted.

"I'm telling you this only because I trust you," Harry started to the person he guessed he talked to for the first time, "So don't tell anyone else," he continued, mindless of the other students in the corridor who, by pure chance, were listening closely to what he was saying, "But I finally told Draco that I knew all along that he isn't really a Malfoy, but rather a secret love child of Narcisa and our own Professor Snape, and that's why he keeps so many hair-care products... you know, to dye his hair. That just made him run to go throw the evidence out of the window," Harry finished, and not really acknowledging all the shocked expressions, simply went back to sit with his friends.

Couple of minutes after that, an annoyed Hermione stumbled into the compartment.

"What is it with all the people running around the train like there's a fire going on?" she asked with a huff.

"Oh, don't mind them. They're just misguided," Harry responded casually, continuing his game of Exploding Snap he was playing with Neville.

Hermione stared at him. But since what he said was true, she just shook her head and got herself a book to read, missing the significance of just how everyone became misguided so suddenly.

* * *

When they finally arrived, Harry had one of the rare moments when he was genuinely surprised. This time it was because of the animals that were pulling the carriages towards the castle. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither — vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister... but then he noticed Luna casually walking past them on her way to the next free carriage, running her hand along their hides as she did so.

Harry blinked in surprise, vaguely remembering her doing it before, maybe even every single year, but he couldn't be sure because earlier, it seemed to be such a _Luna_-thing to do, going around and "touching the wind". The presence of Thestrals wasn't the main reason for Harry's surprise, as he had read about them during one of their study sessions. Nor was it from the fact that Luna could interact with them so freely. It was for the simple fact that he was able to see them, and he couldn't possibly understand when had he saw someone die like all the books stated that one needed to, to be able to see them. And like always when he had problems with something, someone came along to his rescue.

'You might have not seen someone die,' Slytherin said after he appeared out of nowhere, 'But you have obviously seen the dead not so long ago, and given the interaction that happened then, I would guess that you fully accepted their place among the living. I think that was enough to make their presence visible to you,'

Harry nodded, watching sadly the gathering of animals that once probably were closely related to Pegasi, but after a millennium of magical starvation resolved to being nothing more than a ghostly shadow of their former self and being named by the modern people as the omen of death.

He shook his head to clear his mind of the sad thoughts, and instead went to say hello just like Luna did it moments earlier, thinking that it wasn't sad at all, and instead showed a great strength, that they were able to survive, even in the world as empty when it came to magic as the one they were living right now.

Harry refrained from over thinking things, since if he would like to think everything through to the smallest of details, he would quickly end up crazy... Well, more crazy than he was right now, what with a bunch of people living in his head, with Slytherin being the most prominent citizen. As an afterthought, he wondered if he shouldn't make the man the Major of the Town, but quickly changed his mind as it was outright scary to think what the man could possibly do with the keys to the city, or more correctly, to Harry's mind.

As such, he only accepted his ability to see Thestrals before leaving it to sink to the back of his mind. Maybe if he would have thought about it a minute he might have considered that such a blatant surprise may be the beginning of a longer chain of events. Luckily, he quickly along that that was exactly what was happening as even the Sorting Feast itself wasn't like any previous one a living man might remember. The Sorting Hat not only gave the usual description of the houses, but also a lengthy warning of what the students should be striving for in the nearest future. Harry was thinking idly if the Hat was referring to Voldemort as the "_external, deadly foe_", the ministry, and that toad like woman in particular as the reason for "_crumbling from within_". Maybe it was both...

Buy while everyone around him were muttering about such an uncommon happening, Harry only smiled and nodded and... was it a wink the Hat gave him in return? He shook his head, smiling, and began thinking of what to do, since, even as Seharol constantly refereed to him with a respect rivalling only that he held for the Founders, Harry knew that was still a subject to the Hat's will – only if for the simple fact that he still hid his abilities and his task he received from Slytherin. And, what the hell, he haven't had any other event's planed for the year, so he might as well take the task heads on.

Then Madam Umbridge, as Headmaster had introduced her, interrupted his speech, proving Harry right that her only reason to be here was to allow Ministry to show that they could do everything they wanted whenever they liked to. Or so they thought, because while Hermione translated the hidden meaning to everyone around who haven't bothered, or rather couldn't concentrate enough, to listen to their new Professor, Harry snorted at the seriousness of her tone. That made her look at him sharply, in turn focusing attention of people nearby on them.

"You make it sound like it's end of the world that she's here," Harry said, at which Hermione grimaced.

"Oh, and you probably are just too happy to welcome her to Hogwarts?" she snapped back, annoyed at him. Even as he knew she didn't mean it, she _was _acting strange.

"Well, maybe not _that_ happy, but I will certainly enjoy that game Professor Umbridge just announced," Harry said with a pleased smile, and casually went ahead to their dormitories, seeing that the feast had ended, leaving everyone else to exchange stares and trying to think, once again, what the hell we was talking about.

* * *

Even as the start of the year was on the first of September, for unknown to anybody reasons they haven't had a class scheduled until next Monday. That left the entire population of Hogwart to enjoy some more free time that they spent on catching up on the happenings of the summer.

Of course, as it was the start of the fifth year, the topic most commonly talked about in Harry's dorm stopped being Quidditch, now on par with girls being mentioned here and there. Fact, it was mostly because of Dean and Seamus, but that haven't stopped them from dragging others in, or other's joining them on one time or another. It just so happened that on one of those free evenings the two of them were talking animatedly in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, and it just so happened that they needed and outside expertise. That's how Harry found himself dragged in this time around.

"Hey, Harry, you surely had caught a girl of two by now, right?" Dean asked as the two of them sat on the couch on the either side of him, thus interrupting him in reading his book.

The rumour mill in Hogwarts had been working double time spreading, changing, multiplying and outright twisting the simple story Harry told about Draco on that train ride, but still, people were always out for more, and since no one ever asked him that question before, the entire common room quieted immediately, something Harry couldn't have not noticed. But what was more interesting to him, Hermione stopped revising her notes she had made during the summer.

He blinked in surprise, because he certainly didn't think that _that_ was the reason she was acting strangely on occasion. If it was, then she surely... He stopped himself, because he truly had no idea what could she do. Everything that he could think of would only work for him. But still, as he wasn't certain, he decided to play along.

"Well, of course," he said with a shrug, returning to his book like nothing big happened.

"Come on, give us some details," Seamus urged, taking the book from Harry's hands, leaving him defenceless of their unyielding stares.

"Well, I guess it was during one of the summers, in a neighbours house. I was sitting on a couch, lots of movement around, but at one point this fine cat-lady walks into the room, walking with those smooth moves towards me, throwing fur that she was wearing on the floor, and when she was near enough, she jumped into my lap and started purring..."

Harry said with a far-away look, making everyone inch ever so closer to hear all the juicy details. But during all this time he kept watching out of the corner of his eye how Hermione's head bowed ever so nearer, and her quill that haven't moved since he started had been bending in ways it clearly wasn't supposed to. When it snapped, he frowned, being certain enough what was on her mind and thinking that he better stop before she killed him...

"What? What happened then?" Dean asked, mistaking his reaction for something else than what it really was. Well, he might as well use it to end the show.

"Eh... Nothing really. I was just thinking that that picture would be so much better if it was an actual girl, and not one of my neighbour's old cats," he said, remembering well how, during his repeated visits in Mrs. Figg's house, he learned the hard ways how hard was it to discourage a cat from coming back once you petted it once. Not saying about a bunch of cats...

There was exactly three seconds of shocked silence when that additional information sunk in and combined with the previous picture – during which Hermione's head snapped up, and she gave him a startled look, to which he immediately responded with a wink, which only made her shake her head at his strange antics – after which the entire room gave a great snort, with some people resolving to chuckles when Dean and Seamus both moaned how they shouldn't have even asked.

Truth be told, as much fame, wealth, or good looks Harry was said to have, the first hand experience of interacting with him was simply too much for any kind of self-produced crush to survive. The best example of that was one Ginny Weasley. At first she might have had a life worth of a crush which unabled her to put two words together whenever Harry was around, but after some time, she couldn't see just why that was.

As fun and endearing Harry was, while watching him, it was simply too much like how Twins behaved for her to think of him as anything but a lost Weasley triplet. If her seeing him as another brother of hers wasn't enough, whenever he wasn't playing with people, he was studying harder than anyone else, with Library being his nearly constant place to spend time in. Between those two persona's of his, she simply couldn't understand, first of all, how that kind of behaviour was even possible, but more importantly, how she could possibly fit with someone like that.

Only his nearest friends saw him for who he really was, a person interested in knowledge so much, that he simply couldn't help to _not _ play with things he knew. But still, even Hermione, who got her things and sat by him as soon as everyone else left him in peace once again, couldn't understand one important thing.

"Harry," she started in a whisper as to not attract too much attention to him again, "I know how smart you really are, and just don't know why you still keep doing crazy things like this..."

He put his book aside, and thought quickly how to explain it best.

"You probably have read Hamlet about a dozen times by now, right?" he asked in the end, and her flush was enough of a response for him. "When I first heard his story, I thought that he was a complete madman, seeing ghosts, the way he talked, and still, in that state, trying to murder his uncle, the new king... But then I thought about it again, and he became the most logical man I knew at the time," at Hermione's frown he smiled fondly, "I mean, it was exactly what he needed, being perceived as a man who was thrown into madness by the grief of loosing his father, for everyone else to leave him in peace, since no one really seeks the company of a crazy person. That left him to do as he please, even as to plan the assassination in a broad daylight,"

"Rather than hide from people, make them to leave, thinking that it's their own decision so they don't question the situation..." Hermione muttered, and Harry nodded at her summary, "But isn't that a bit lonely?" she asked timidly, and Harry had to think hard if that was just the phrasing, or was she feeling him out too.

"Well, you would have to ask Hamlet that... I do tell some people what's going on my mind. Or people that I _care_ about, if you want to be more exact,"

In other circumstances, she would roll her eyes at his proposition to question a character from a play, he knew that. But now she didn't, holding his gaze even as her lips parted slightly in surprise – the only sign of her being puzzled if this time, it was strange wording on his part or rather...

He simply smiled at her, putting a stray lock of hair behind her ear before returning to his book. And even as she smiled back at him, with that smile staying with her for the rest of the evening, he could still catch her glancing his way.

* * *

AN. First of all, sorry for the delay. I was dragged into planning and preparing my friend's wedding. Then, after the wedding itself, I wasn't exactly well to do any writing for a day... or three... or... What exactly is the date?

That joke about "Draco is Narcisa's and Snape's love child" comes from Sarah1281's story "Oh god not again!". Thank you fred2008 for reminding me of the exact story.

As a more important announcement, I'm looking for a Beta reader. I think my writing isn't all that bad right now, but still, there is much work to put into cleaning things up, and I would need someone willing to deal with this story, starting from the first chapter. That would make the work between us flexible, as we both would be able to work whenever we saw fit, without the chapters being delayed by us sending it between ourself. If anyone reading this is up to the challenge, please PM me. Meanwhile I'll look for a Beta in the traditional way.


	67. Chapter 67

Who would like to have the exclusive rights to the Harry Potter franchise? Yeah... me too...

* * *

Harry was surprised that there was nothing at all about Voldemort or Death Eaters in the press. Well, nothing besides the news about some of them being caught and sentenced – a fact that made him think that, perhaps, magical community was able to change, since no one was let go because of some petty excuse. It seemed that his testimony was enough for the Ministry to see this as a serious matter, and not some sort of prank on his part, and it decided to keep the affair quiet as long as Voldemort stayed quiet himself.

As it was, the wizarding world, or at least that part of it that was aware of the more important events, entered the calm before the proverbial storm, building strength while the peace still lasted. Of course, they thought that the other side was doing exactly the same thing... Harry knew better than that.

* * *

A cloaked figure entered the Dark Lord's chambers. News of strange behaviour on his part were well spread among the ranks by now, but no one dared to say a thing about it anywhere near him, or even propose a treatment for aftershock of the ritual or spending twelve years on the brink of life and death, because it was unimaginable to refer to Him as anything but a perfect being. If someone forgot about that, even for a moment, a memory of immense pain quickly reminded them of that simple fact.

But even with that, there were important matters to discuss, and from time to time one of the Inner Circle tried to inquire and read even the vaguest of intentions from their Lord.

That was why the cloaked man followed the strict protocol, and knelt in front of the Dark Lord's throne, after silently walking the distance to the throne, not lifting his gaze from the ground the entire time. But before he could even utter a sound, a loud voice boomed seemingly from all around.

"**Who dares to bother the all-powerful Lord Voldemort?**"

"And his counsellor," added a second voice in a whisper, or maybe it only seemed so because of the previous one.

"**And his counsellor!**" repeated the booming voice.

The Dark Lord's servant was so startled at the news of a new advisor that he forgot his place when his head snapped up to see who it was. Then, he couldn't possibly lower it back down, since he simply couldn't believe his eyes.

Voldemort, like always, rested in his throne, but now dressed in sparklingly green robes, not his usual pitch-black ones. And right next to him, was his counsellor, presenting exactly the same sight. It was literally so, since the puppet that rested on the hand of the most fearsome Dark Lord in the living memory was exactly like him, with a skull like head, slits in place of a nose, red eyes, and exactly the same kind of sparklingly green robes. The only difference between the two was the scale.

"**What brings you here?**" Voldemort asked, making his servant lower his head in an instance.

"I just wanted to see if you're well, my Lord, and if you need anything," he lied hastily. Earlier he didn't believe just how bad it was, but now the only thing he wanted was to get out of there as soon as possible.

"**If I would need anything, I would have called you. Have I called?**" Voldemort asked, and not waiting for an answer, he continued in an angered whisper. "Can't you see that you're making my guest impatient?" he asked, making the cloaked man glance at the puppet which seemed to be admiring the interior, clearly bored. "Leave now before I lose my own patience,"

That was all the Dark Lord's servant needed to hear, and he started bowing on his way to the exit. On his way, he thought that perhaps running would be better, since, even if he would have to endure his Master's wrath, he wouldn't have to listen to the conversation while he was still in the room.

"Was that good?" Voldemort asked the puppet.

"It was perfect. Although, when you're threatening someone, it's good to give an understated description, so that the future victim will torment itself with thoughts of what could possibly be the worst thing you can come up with," the puppet responded in the exactly same voice.

"Ah, I see..." Dark Lord murmured, then turned back to the puppet, "You know, you're probably the most sensible guy here,"

"Oh, you're just saying that," the puppet replied with words leaving not it's, but Voldemort's mouth.

"No, I'm being completely honest with you," the evil mastermind argued back.

The Death Eater at last reached the door, relieved that at finally he will be free of this madness. But before he closed the door behind him, one last sentence reached his ears.

"Now, Mini-Me, as we're alone again, tell me more about this Oz person..."

* * *

With no imminent threat coming his way from either the Ministry or the Dark Lord, Harry could deal with smaller problems that littered his day. One of them being:

"I can't believe Fred and George are advertising testing their products for money," Hermione growled one morning, making Harry frown in confusion before he saw the large poster on the Gryffindor notice-board.

As much Harry approved their products, he didn't think that making guinea-pigs out of first and second years, since they would be the most likely group to be tempted by money – even when Weasley Twins and Testing, is nearby – was such a great idea. Making his mind, he told Hermione that he'll take care of it, leaving her confused as he sped back to his dormitory.

Closing his trunk after he found clean parchment, he was startled to see Hedwig sitting on the windowsill, watching him intently. He thought for a while what she wanted, but then stopped when he realised that _he_ needed to write a letter, and she was there to deliver it, even before he realised it himself.

He opened the window letting her in, but now he was more interested in checking his hunch rather than sending any mail.

"Hello, girl," he whispered, "Would you mind showing me just what you're capable of?" he asked, feeling kind of stupid, because he himself wasn't sure what will come out of it. Hedwig, tilting her head at him, wasn't boosting his confidence either.

But then she jumped of the ledge, and with a single beat of her wings... Harry stumbled to the ground, trying to avoid a white bullet that zoomed right past him, leaving a wind strong enough to make every bed-curtain in the room sway in it's wake. By the time he looked in the direction she flew, Hedwig was casually sitting on the other side of the room, watching him curiously.

Harry gapped at what just happened, but when his brain started working again, he reminded himself of all those tales that Slytherin and the Basilisk told him about when there were more wandless wizards in the world, and how magic penetrated everything around them, making new, magical species sprout from time to time.

Even as that magic was spread all over in modern world, it was still there, in magical animals, allowing them to do some of those extraordinary feats mundane animals weren't able to, or in plants, allowing people to make potions by combining different kinds of "processed" energy together.

But only now he fully understood how much a wizard, even only by his presence and not by his actions, could change the world around him. Harry stared in wonder, watching Hedwig like he saw her for the first time in his life, with her watching him back with a tilted head, like she was thinking just how stupid his expression was right now.

She, being his companion since he was eleven, was probably the most magic-exposed animal there was. He wasn't sure if she could do it all on her own by now, or was she still relying on him - just like Dobby was relying on that white lily he received from Magie every other week, as opposed to every other day like when he first started receiving it – but one fact remained the same:

"You're the most wonderful owl there is, aren't you?" Harry asked with a laugh, since he remembered the question he asked Wizengamot during his hearing, and now saw that he just might have _that_ kind of an owl.

Hedwig bobbed her head twice, but then quickly stuck her leg out, reminding him that there was work to do. He shook his head and scribbled a short note, tying it to her leg when he was finished. She flew out the window, and he, along with Magie who appeared at his side, watched her instantly vanish in the distance. When even a dot haven't remained after her, he moved quickly downstairs, explaining to his invisible friend what exactly he had in mind.

* * *

"Fred! Wait up!" Harry screamed, seeing the redhead he wanted to see walking down the corridor.

The man in question stopped, letting Harry to catch up with him, but wearing a saddened look.

"If you're looking for Fred, you're out of luck my friend," said the supposedly-George person, "He went with Lee to..."

Harry wasn't having any of it, just glancing at the Weasley in front of him with his patented Are-you-really-thinking-you-are-going-to-fool-me-? look. Fred cursed, and, like always, watched the raven-haired boy incredulously.

"How do you do that?" he moaned, since Harry was to date the only person able to distinguish the two of them without fail, and it pained the twins to not know what kind of trick he was using.

"You have your secrets, I have mine," Harry responded with a shrug.

Usually, when he wasn't feeling creative much, he replied that they smelt differently, making the Twins groan since they _really_ spent countless hours trying to check if that was true or not the first time he said that. Of course, the one thing that he haven't told them was that it was always Magie who did all the "sniffing".

"Come on, I have a deal to make with you," Harry continued, making Fred perk up as they entered an unused classroom.

"I want you to stop testing your products on students," Harry stated when they made themselves comfortable, at which Fred's face fell.

"Damn you! And here I thought you were going to bring some good news," Fred grumbled, "I mean, I know that it isn't that nice – trust me, I know. We've been testing our products on ourself in the past, so we know all about it, but the professional testing apparatus is bloody expensive, and we just can't afford it with what little capital we've gathered so far... especially with that damned bet," he added the last part under his breath, but that was the opportunity Harry needed to interrupt him.

"Hey, now. You know me. I'm not the kind of person to criticise your solution without providing one of my own. Yes, I want the two of you to stop testing your products on students, but on the other hand, how do you feel having thousand galleons more in your pocket?"

That last bit made Fred gap. Thousand galleons more! His mind was bursting with possible uses of that amount of money – of course before the Weasley honour haven't kicked in, and he was about to refuse any kind of charity. Harry, knowing full well what the other boy was thinking, picked the previously empty parchment out of his pocket and placed it in front of Fred, making him peer at it inquisitively.

"What's this?" he asked, flipping couple of pages of text.

"What I think is a fair contract if I'm going to be your partner in crime and endanger myself to your mother's wrath," Harry replied, watching Fred read through the contract that Magie wrote down, with renewed interest.

It wasn't filled with technical, lawyer jargon like so many out there. Instead, it was up to the point, and strangely lacking any kind of loophole Fred could think of. Even without much help from Harry to explain every other point, the red-haired boy could see himself that the contract was indeed fair. But one thing wouldn't stop bothering him.

"It says you're going to get one third of the profits. Shouldn't you get at least half of it?" Fred asked, since his Weasley pride wouldn't stop bothering him, which made Harry smile.

"Nope. I get a third for providing you with equipment, materials and the likes. Then there is still production and sale. Since you are responsible for those, you get two thirds. That way, if you want to employ more people, in case the business grows, you can just divide the amount directed for sales to pay them, and it leaves you with only one third, but free to research and produce all day long," he explained calmly, making Fred nod at the logic.

Of course, Harry haven't told him that he literally was responsible for providing them with equipment and materials, since everything that was meant to be his share, he made to be used as money to buy those. The only money that the contract stated that was his to have, was a thousand galleon insurance, in case the business goes awry, that he could take out of Twin's hands at any point in time.

And maybe he would, when they were old, if he was in need of some "pocket money", since it was the Tournament prize that he was giving to the Twins. But other than that, he thought all the glory should go to them. If they were unsuccessful... well, a thousand galleons dropped into his hands, he wouldn't be that mad if it was gone just as quickly. But if they were successful, and he knew they would most likely be, then he wasn't about to make profit off of someone's work. He, himself, thanks to the goblins, had more money than he knew what to do with, especially, thanks to the Dursleys, that he didn't feel the need to spend money on every turn.

The only way he could make money from Twin's shop would be if he sold them his own invention. But anybody could do that. Sell their project and have a nice percent from the sale of it in their shop...

"You already signed," Fred's startled words brought Harry back from his thoughts.

"Yes, and when the two of you sign as well, it will flash, which means that two copies – one for Gringott's and one for me – had just been created. When it stops flashing, you should find a key to your new bank account created in your name, with thousand galleons already in it," Harry told him, making Fred blink and make even stupider face with every new fact he learned about the deal.

Harry just shrugged, smiling slightly that being friends with the goblins, and especially knowing how their job looked from the inside, really simplified your life significantly. Well, at least when it came down to money.

"Of course, if you don't like it, I can cancel it whenever I want," Harry said, reaching for his wand. As the person who created the contract, it was certainly in his power.

"No, no, it's perfect," Fred said, his eyes gleaming like the piece of parchment in his hands was pure gold. Well, looking how things worked, in theory, it was just that.

"But," Fred's enthusiasm dimmed a little as they stood, because he remembered of one important matter, "What about the testing until the shop is up and running? I mean, we have to have some products when we open the shop,"

Harry himself stopped for a second, but then a smile crept on his face – one that made even person like Fred doubt if he even wanted to ask.

"I'll take care of it for now," he announced with a far away look, starting to move again, "Just don't let your mother kill me when she finally learns from where you got your money," Harry reminded the part of the deal not included in the contract as he opened the door.

Fred stopped in the threshold, and turning to Harry with solemn face, announced:

"If it comes to that... I can make no promises,"

Harry just shook his head since he didn't know if he should laugh at Fred's skills as an actor, or the fact that when Molly Weasley was set to punish someone, there was simply nothing that could be done about it.

* * *

Since it was Harry, nobody really knew what he meant when he said that Umbridge being in the castle started some sort of a game. But on the other hand, seeing all the stunts he did in the past, very few could stand the prolonged waiting before the first confrontation. During the free days preceding Monday, the rumour mill produced unlimited array of possible scenarios, but on the first day of class itself, no one from Harry's year could do much more than to jitter in anticipation – even when they got the most tedious Monday ever.

Still, they got through the History of Magic, with surprisingly few people falling asleep. But it had nothing to do with the lecture Professor Binns produced, as it was as boring as ever. They withstood Snape's comments about their potion brewing skills. In Divination a great battle was the most common prediction. They even haven't made a single comment when Professor Umbridge started referring to them as five year old children, not wanting to steal the spotlight. And there it was...

Harry raised his hand moments before Hermione did. She looked at him strangely, but he just gave her his best Trust-me-I-know-what-I-am-doing look, and she stayed quieted, watching him like the rest of the class as he waited to be acknowledged.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" Umbridge asked Harry, as though she had only just noticed her.

"No, Professor Umbridge. I would like to ask about the structure of the class," he replied politely.

There was a massive intake of air when the class watched Proffesor's face become so sweet, that it was right next to malicious.

"And what exactly interests you?" Umbridge asked, clearly just waiting for an opportunity to snap at him.

"Well, I was wondering if our homework should be written according to Ministry approved manual describing how reports should look like?"

Everyone was stunned at the question. Even Umbridge lost her composure, showing her surprise at sincerity in his voice, because it was clear, even to her, that he was _not_ joking. He was genuinely interested.

"Well, dear," she recovered quickly, "I'm glad you bring the topic of order to everyone's attention, but seeing that we are in school, it will not be needed to go to such lengths as to introduce Ministry's rules," she replied with her usual, sweet smile. But then stopped, surprised at her own response, and added quickly, "Although, you might have some right in proposing that,"

"Yes, Proffesor Umbridge, thank you for your consideration," Harry said with a bow of his head and started reading his book like nothing big had happened.

The rest of the class on the other hand exchanged baffled glances, because no one present had slightest idea what was going on.

* * *

That strange daze not only continued but also multiplied when students outside of Harry's class heard rumours of what happened. It wasn't long before they too joined the baffled crowd that had no idea what was happening, since Harry became over night what could only be the second coming of Percy Weasley.

It was strange, watching a regulation loving, prim and proper Harry Potter. On one hand, he was still doing the same things as before – playing quidditch, studying in the library. Heck, he even continued to take batches of products from Twins and returning detailed reports a week or two later. But besides all of that, the sight of him going along with even the strictest of regulations was something no one truly could handle.

At first it was unthinkable, later merely strange. But as time progressed, more and more people started blaming him for Umbridge doing whatever she liked in the school, like becoming the High Inquisitor or inspecting classes. It was stupid, true, but angry people rarely have good judgement.

It was a month after the first class that situation got so tense, that student's body decided to take action...

* * *

Harry was returning with Hermione from the library after another one of their study sessions. Luna and Rose were going to their own dormitories, while Neville, as an exceptionally talented Herbologist, was working with Proffesor Sprout on some sort of a project. That meant that it was only the two of them going back to their common room. But with only one step behind the portrait of the Fat Lady, he was painfully aware of every Gryffindor staring right at him.

'And to think that I complained about Sirius not knowing the meaning of the word "subtle",' he thought to himself.

Nevertheless, he helped Hermione through the portrait hole, and proceeded like nothing big was happening. Half way through the common room, a seventh year student Harry remembered seeing on couple of occasions, decided to stand in his way, blocking his path.

"Potter," he growled.

"Something I can do for you?" Harry asked casually.

"It's been a month since Umbridge came to the castle, so why haven't you done anything about her?" the older boy demanded.

"And why, exactly, would I need to do anything?" Harry replied with his patented, Please-explain-it-to-me-like-you-would-to-a-five-year-old-child expression.

"Well, you dealt with Lockhart, and put Snape into place, and... and..." someone else from the crowd started, but lost their resolve when Harry turned to meet that person face to face.

"So, since I dealt with some people that bothered me personally, you somehow convinced yourself that my only purpose in life is to deal with people that bother you?" he asked outright, scanning the crowd.

Most of the people gathered lowered their eyes in embarrassment, since clearly they haven't thought of it like _that_, and it really was stupid when said up front. But more than couple nodded, clearly stating that they thought just that.

'And here we have, a prime example of few compelling many to do what they want,' he thought, looking once again at everyone present, 'But why those few think that even fewer will always go and get themselves in trouble for _the right cause_?' he added with a sigh.

"Why don't you start behaving like responsible people you think you are and start dealing with your problems yourself?" Harry asked the seventh year boy that was the spokesperson for the entire group on his way to his dormitory.

"But what are we supposed to do?" stopped him on his way to the stairs.

"Do anything you want. It's your life, you have your own brain, so who am I to tell you what to do with it?" he responded to the group that now looked completely lost.

"Then what would you do with Umbridge?" someone tried again when he was walking up the stairs.

He turned with a slight smile on his face, and stated simply.

"Who said that Umbridge is any kind of problem to me?" he asked with a laugh, vanishing up the stairs, leaving a room full of people completely absent of any kind of idea about what they should do now.

* * *

"I know you're up to something," Hermione stated, entering his dormitory moments later, "so what was all that down there?" she asked, but quickly changed her mind, "No, better tell me what you're planing to do, but..." she stopped, biring her lower lip in that cute way she did whenever she wasn't sure of something, "But tell me the whole story, won't you?" she added in the end.

It was true that Harry always explained his ideas, and that they more often than not gave spectacular results. If not, they were _just_ great. But he never gave the full story, probably because it would take too long to explain the whole deal, simply to do something rather uncomplicated. But, even if only this single time, Hermione wanted to know not only what he was doing, but also _why_. What was that underlying cause to make him act in that way, and not in any other.

Harry smiled slightly at her request, and since he wasn't a person to deny explanation to anyone who asked, he made himself comfortable by the window, settling for a longer conversation as he arranged his thoughts while he was looking outside.

"At first, there was the word," he started in the end, and instinctively knew that she became annoyed, probably thinking that he wasn't taking her serious. He silenced her with a simple gesture, "You wanted me to explain, so, please, just listen, because it's important,"

At her reluctant nod, he started again.

"At first, there was the word. Obviously, I'm no god to know if there is a heavenly language which allows you to create worlds with a single word, but when it comes to human terms, that sentence is incorrect. At first, there was the _intent_. That would be more like it, since even when humans knew no words, they still had the will to survive, grow and prosper. Words came later. Many say that language is the ultimate invention, allowing you to communicate your complex ideas to other people, even breaking the time barrier, since your thoughts can be read after many ages had passed. But it isn't so, since what language as it is now is lacking, is a method to precisely state your intentions." again, he noticed Hermione wanted to interrupt, and he rightly guessed what was on her mind.

"If you want to disagree, then just think of all the times someone told you not to curse when you said bitch or cock, while you meant a female dog or a rooster, respectively. That's the fault of the language. What you say, and what the other person hears doesn't need to be the exact same thing, even as you both agree that you have understood yourself completely. You haven't. Your original intent was somewhat lost during the transfer. While sometimes you argue that the other person haven't understood and try to explain more clearly, who does that during a normal day, in countless conversations they have with other people? Not that many, since it's considered a waste of time. What we do during a regular day is to follow a vague idea of what the other person wants." seeing her nod slightly at that, he got back to his original train of thought.

"Given that our brain is used to verbalisation of our thoughts, it makes us see the world like... like shadows of hands formed in the candlelight," he smiled at her expression when she heard his comparison. "You know, a person folds their hands, and you see a shadow of a dog on the wall. But what makes the difference, is the fact that you see a shadow of a German shepherd, while I see a dalmatian," he explained, and Hermione's eyes lit up in understanding.

"People, throughout their lives constantly battle to explain to everyone else that _they_ are right, that _their_ idea is best, that _their_ arguments are the right ones, while, like Einstein proved in his theory of relativity, it is possible that, given the same information, more than one solution or possibility is the correct one," he said and got and idea of an example.

"Like that struggle between 'Animal rights' and 'We need to eat meat'. Both are valid. Well, not as much as we _need_ to eat meat, but it's good to eat it, since it goes along well if it's introduced in our diet. But on the other hand, man have gone to such lengths to acquire it... no, to have it constantly, that he no longer keeps animals, because they became mere products. They are no more than that. They don't know what it's like to be free or how to live like a proper animal. They are merely grown, processed, and delivered like anything else to your shop. Here, the animal activist are right, that they should be treated better. But they too are wrong in how they deal with it. It's stupid to demand animal rights, because that just a fight of a man versus man. A pure stupidity to show just who has the right. And the whole affair is so simple to solve. Problem is that the solution is unthinkable for the modern man," he sighed, his eyes cast into distance, but not looking at anything specific.

"To give animals their right and treat them better, people don't have to add new rules to the book. As a matter of fact, if I was responsible for that part of the law, I would throw out everything considering hunting seasons or protected zones. In fact, I would introduce only one rule: You need to hunt what you eat. Now, in the modern world you're hunting when you go into the woods with rifles, dogs or whatever else," he snorted at the image.

"Now, what I mean when I say _hunting_, is when a person brings a knife and only that, to compensate that people don't have claws like animals do, and goes to the woods for a week, building his own shelters, gathering his own provisions, and killing animals with a knife, or a bow or spear, if they know how to make them. If any bored businessman that goes hunting on the weekend will do it the way I described it, and after a week comes back with two or three full grown deers he hunted in that time, still saying that hunting is such a "relaxing" or "refreshing" experience, then, and only then, I will think highly of that man, and will refer to him as a huntsman with clear conscience,"

"But that kind of behaviour is unthinkable in modern society. You will probably hear voices saying that it's barbaric, or a modern man shouldn't act like an animal. The truth is, most people, somewhere down inside, just got used to the life as it is now, and simply cannot understand that you need to break a real sweat to make a living. Because work behind a desk or shopping in a supermarkets is such a exhausting thing to do. In the meantime, it is so much more civilized to make herds of cattle go through an automated slaughterhouse all on their own..." he gave a big sigh, and shook his head to clear it, getting back to topic.

"Now, the reason why I'm telling you all about it, is to make it clear to you that most people think they are miserable not because there truly is something crashing their life on every turn, but because they simply think that it's just like that. Now, while there are some people that really have it hard, most just stick to the lies, or rather misconceptions, to argument just how poor and touched by life they are, and how the entire world should step aside for them, since they went through so much in their life. Our own Professor Umbridge is just such a person,"

"I think she suffers from a severe inferiority complex... but while a normal person would use their conviction to deal with the problem in a positive way, she uses anything at her disposal to show other people just how little they mean. Clearly, rules are her weapon of choice. And even as she verbalise and argument everything to make it sound rational and good, she clearly doesn't see, or doesn't care about the intent that comes along with it, which is to make everyone bow their heads, or make them to look like savages who can't follow simple instructions,"

"Now, the main problem isn't her behaviour. It isn't even the fact that her personality as a whole is set on being miserable or making others to be so. The real trouble begin when you want to change the above, because truly "People don't change". Let's take Neville with his shyness and insecurity. You can't shove him out into the world and tell him that he just needs to do is to prove his worth to himself. All you will manage is to make him a lunatic throwing himself into newer troubles to somehow show just how brave he is. Will it change his behaviour? Sure. But it won't change him, since it will be that shyness and insecurity swept somewhere under a rug, making him unable to find peace, and compelling him to do even crazier stunts to prove himself. That would only make him hurt himself in one way or another,"

"The only solution to that kind of problem... Well, you know what people say, that "The truth will set you free". It is the ultimate solution, pretty much to everything. But it isn't enough to tell complete truth once. It isn't even enough to tell it when it matters. What matters, is to tell truth, only truth, and nothing but the truth... _always_. To be truthful not only when speaking with other people, but most importantly with yourself. To see all the flaws you have and not shun them away, but deal with them. And if you can't do anything to make yourself better, then simply accept that it's just the way you are, but only after you_ really_ tried. Otherwise, it's just another excuse."

"You seriously think that truth is enough?" Hermione asked, speaking for the first time when Harry started his monologue, but she simple had to ask.

"Let's take an easy example," Harry took over with a smile,"Let's say that you've been offends you. If you see the truth of the situation, don't listen to the words but see it as a whole, understand the intentions, then you can't possibly take offence. If someone said something by mistake, you can't take offence, since it wasn't his intention, and the whole affair is a big misunderstanding. Only proper thing to do is to explain that it isn't proper way to behave, and that person probably won't do it the next time. But, if someone was truly trying to offend you, again, you can't take offence. First of all, why would you give that person the satisfaction if you understand what they are trying to do? Second of all, it will only infuriate them if you stay calm no matter what they try. Only not understanding the situation, jumping to conclusions and basing on their private misconceptions make people burst in outrage in that kind of situation," he finished with a shrug.

"But more than that, if people were taught to be mentally incapable of lying, then how could you say that there is something like crime? If a person who did something you didn't approve would state their arguments, point after point, and you knew that they were hones to God, and no lie could possibly come from their mouth, then the only thing you could say would be that you have different opinion. But not hat they're _wrong_. Not when you would understand their way of thinking, their morals and the situation they were in at that exact moment. "

"But, alas, that kind of thing isn't probable in this world, even I know as much, and the only thing that is left is to deal with problems that each problem have. Returning to Professor Umbridge, she cherishes _her_ rules above anything else. But the truth is that she hates me more than anyone else, wanting me to bow before her lower than anybody else. But me, following her rules to the word-"

"Will make her hate go back to her. She will make herself unhappy, not understanding that her intentions contradict themselves..." Hermione muttered, finally understanding Harry's behaviour. He smiled sadly at that.

"Yes... That's the most horrific part about _helping_ people. You must strip them of everything they have, leaving them the only choice of facing their problems, their inner demons. You can't even help them when they're like that, since that would be indoctrinating, brain-washing, or anything you want to call it. They would simply follow your words like a robot. Instead, they need to find their own way. They need to find themselves in situation that clearly states that without sacrifice, without pain, blood and sweat you can't _truly_ gain anything in life. And in that situation, they need to make the right decisions, allowing them to grow on their own every following day of their life. If they don't, they'll just stay bitter and hurt since it's obviously everyone else's fault, instead of being victorious and hopeful, steadied by the fact that they've managed it all on their own,"

Hermione watched him simply looking out of the window, and gulped, because she understood one fact about Harry. Earlier she thought that he learned, because, like her, he wanted to know as much about the world around the as one possibly could. Now she knew that it wasn't so. He kept reading book after book to see just how broken the world was, with people having all the answers right in front of them, but still managing to mess things up so horribly.

But he still stayed hopeful, seeing and catching every happy thought that there was in the world. She didn't knew why, but it seemed to be like the most beautiful tree growing on a mountain of manure

That part about loosing everything, she wondered, having nothing else but dealing with your problems head on... Something in his eyes told her that he knew just too much about that, but she couldn't understand when he could possibly go through it...

"Harry, but people can't do everything-" she wanted to argue, but he interrupted her with that disarming smile of his, voicelessly stating that world was perfect – even in the state as it was now.

"No, Hermione. We're not people, we're wizards," he said, making her frown, since it was clear he stated the obvious. Unfazed, he continued, "Long time ago, when travelling wizards roamed the land, there was a clear distinction of who was a simple man, and who was a wizard. Man was said to be body and word. He was born, he lived, experienced, and he gained words to tell others about it. But when a man became a wizard, he stopped being body and word, he became word and body. His words were more important than his simple body, since with a mere word, he had the power to change and shape the reality. Spells are mere words, but given enough intent, you shape the world around you. But it isn't only a job of a wizard to cast spells on his every step. Those travelling wizards, when staying in a village for shelter, paid for their stay with their services. But for every ten people that came to ask for something, at the average, the wizard had to cast only one spell. People don't need miracles, Hermione. More often than not they only need reassurance, a good word, or someone who is wiser than they are to make sure they do the right thing. We are not people, Hermione, we are wizards," he repeated, "and it is our job is to make the world a better place, and compel others to do the same," he said, for the first time stating what "proper place that wizards should take" that Slytherin made him promise to remind everyone else meant.

* * *

AN. Pyro-briar volunteered to correct the previous chapters, so the cleaner version should be available somewhere in the future.


	68. Chapter 68

Go ask Harry, Ron and Hermione who they belong to. I don't have time to look out for other people's... people? It's not like I'm their caretaker or anything.

* * *

"Harry?" he heard during a breakfast couple of days later, and turned to see a group of nervous people, "Could we have a word?"

He just shrugged and went to talk with them somewhere around the corner. He returned quickly, his expression or behaviour not indicating in anyway that something important happened.

"What was that all about?" Hermione asked from her seat next to him.

"Oh, they just wanted me to teach them Defence during some after hour study group," he responded with a shrug, while he was buttering his roll.

His carefree behaviour didn't gave Hermione any hopes for a positive answer, but still, she had to make sure.

"And you said no, didn't you?" and just as she thought, she got a nod in return as Harry's mouth was full. "But, Harry, you said that we should be helping people, and now..." she left it hanging, since she knew he understood her question.

"Hermione, how many hours have we spent in the library? How many books have we read through?" he responded with questions to her question as soon as he swallowed.

She didn't even bother replying, since, for once, it was impossible to count just how much time did they spend in there, and secondly, because she knew it was usual way of answering – asking a questions to get person thinking about particular things, and then only presenting his conclusions for the other person to consider.

"We studied hard, and we know much more than our peers, right?" he continued.

She nodded, as it was clear. True that they couldn't understand everything immediately, but as time progressed and they read more and more about particular subject it became clearer, and they were able to gain knowledge faster. Thinking about it now, it was truly a wonder just how much they learned nowadays, even Neville who at first didn't want to do any additional studying. Not saying anything about Rose, eating away they background they were already done with in a rate that was outright scary. True that she was mostly looking for an inspiration for another prank, but the result was all the same.

"And how many times have we asked anyone outside of our group for help?" he asked the last question he prepared.

And that truly stopped Hermione, because, what she only now realised, they had never asked for any clarification – aside from asking Madam Pince to direct them to the correct section of the library. When it got to studying itself, when they encountered a mind block, they haven't asked anyone for clarification, but grabbed another book on the subject, researched, practised, and their ability to use a spell in it's entirety was all the proof they needed to know that they've succeeded in learning the particular subject.

"Of course I could have agreed to help them," Harry said, reminding Hermione about the reality, "if only I saw that they really struggled and had problems with learning particular thing. But as it is now, they haven't even tried. What bothers me is that they haven't asked me to help them because it's the most sensible thing to do, but because it's the easiest way out," he said, observing the group that had approached him talking animatedly among themselves and glancing his way from time to time. "I could have said yes, true, but then, instead of trying themselves whenever there would have been a problem, they would have run back to me, or anybody else, to help them with this or that. What they really need is not help, but to finally understand that they are smart enough to deal with their own problems," he turned to Hermione who also was watching the group. "That's the difference. If you want to help people, you don't give them what they think they want, but what they really need. And what they really need right now is to think for themselves,"

She mulled it over in her head, but then again, Harry had one more thing to say.

"Besides, and outright study group to help us with our Defense right under Umbridge's nose wouldn't really work. It would have to be hidden. But if it's that, then one big group is the worst thing you can do," he said, going along his breakfast.

"Why do you think that?" Hermione asked back, "And what would be better?" she added, since she too got into habit of expecting an alternative from anyone that criticised and idea.

"Well, let's get back to the war analogy, since it's clear how Professor Umbridge is trying to _win_ this campaign. The most fearsome formation in history of man is not a regular army, with all the tanks, planes, soldiers, support and all of that. You will find a one major flaw in that system. Namely, it's _organised_," couple of years earlier, Hermione would rage at such a statement, but now she just rolled her eyes. Still, Harry continued his train of thought.

"What you need for that kind of army to win is cooperation of everyone in the gigantic system. Attacks are planed to the last detail, provisions prepared before hand, troops sent out according to a schedule. But if you take only one element, even if it's something like stealing all the shoes in the camp, it throws everything out of balance. Soldiers in that camp have to wait for a delivery of new shoes, then blisters will probably slow them immensely. All that time, the entire war won't wait for them, and that small tear in the plan will only get bigger as the time progresses. That's only one instance, but do something small like that, blowing up fuel reserves, destroying food or water sources, and that grand army will kill itself trying to get itself back in shape,"

"That's why partisans are the most bothersome, pain and fear inducing units you can ever encounter. Even so much as there are many examples in the history when armies had to burn down forests, or level entire cities to finally deal with the threat. On paper, partisans are nothing. Small units with basically no fire power. But what makes them so scary in the real life is their elusiveness. They do as much damage as they can, even if it's seemingly nothing, and disappear before anyone can catch them. Multiply that by hundreds or even thousands of groups throughout of the enemy lines, capable of working separately, not using any sort of central command, with no orders that can be captured, no special code that would allow you to know the next attack, and you have a large, regular army dying at your hands. But to achieve that, people have to _think_. How good is a partisan group composed of up to twenty people attacking head on a fortified brigade? Recognising your best opportunities and limiting your losses is the crucial thing,"

"Okay, so what do you propose we do?" Hermione asked, since she was curious about what he might have thought out for this.

"If I had to organise something like that, I would teach three people a particular things. Then, those three would teach three more, then those three more... it would go like that until everyone knew it, but by that time, there would be another topic going their way. Small groups of three are less conspicuous that half of the school gathering together, and it is more flexible for someone who haven't still got it right to join another group and try again with someone else explaining,"

"Wouldn't it be a little chaotic?" Neville, who just got there, asked, having heard the last part.

"It's the main point," Harry replied in that We-will-explain-it-to-you-fully-later tone,"but true, you would have to have a decent communication system. Again, any type of regular code would be useless. If only one person reveals it, the whole net will be broken, and our working habits destabilized until a new code is thought out and working, which means more waiting as people learn it to the point when they can use it freely. What you need is something that hides the message, but isn't a code at all,"

"Which is?" Hermione and Neville asked together.

"I don't really know how to call it, theme talking? But it goes along the lines of..." Harry stopped, thinking of something quickly, "Hermione, have you watched 'Edward Scissorhands'?" he asked just to be sure, and after a minute of thought, she remembered watching it during one of the summers, so he got a nod in return. "I wonder why no one have visited that strange house on the top of the hill more often..." he paused with a far away look, then turned right back to her, "If I were to stand up right now and go somewhere, where would you think I would go?"

Hermione looked at him, thinking of the old, scary looking, partly destroyed house depicted in the movie, and smiled at how simple it was:

"Shrieking Shack," she not even asked, merely stated with a slight smile on her lips.

"It's that simple when you think about it. True, there might happen a misinterpretation, but it compensates it with the fact that you can talk to someone else all day long, making sure if they understood it perfectly, and anybody who might be listening will just think you're discussing your favourite book, film or anything of the sort. It would work even better here, since muggle-borns don't know the same stories that purebloods do, and if you count half-bloods who could be there to explain things better for both parties, you have your perfect three," he stated, but then thought about something else, "Or maybe not so much, since the regularity would stand out, and Professor Umbridge seems like a person who just might look at the blood status of everyone around," which made Neville and Hermione exchange glances at the thought.

"You think that it'll really work with anybody?" Neville asked, not really that sure of the idea, but wanting to change the topic quickly.

"No better way that to find out, right?" Harry said with a shrug, standing up and going to the Ravenclaw table.

He sat right across Luna. Even as nobody bothered her since she became friends with Harry, no one really bothered to know he better, and even now, there was plenty room around her.

"Hey, Luna," he said as a greeting, making the girl tilt her head, thinking what he was doing here, "I've just been talking with Hermione about a movie we've watched. It's titled Ratatouille, and it's about a rat who wants to become a great chef. In the end, he ends up as a friend of a boy working in a kitchen, and that boy serves as a person in the spotlight while the rat gets to prepare all the delicious dishes he wants," he stated, making people listening to him go back to their business, hearing that it was something stupid and not something of their interest. "No matter with the main plot, I was just wondering that, even though the story takes place in France, they never serve frog's legs in there. How do you think would frog's legs prepared by a rat taste?" he asked, but then "Wait, I have a better idea," he stated, standing up.

"Hey, Draco!" Harry screamed across the Great Hall, gathering all the attention on himself, "Since snake is your emblem and Slytherin's are supposed to be like it, tell me, have you caught any frogs or toads lately?" he asked, making the entire hall, save the Slytherin's table, howl in laughter. "Quiet down you lot," he shouted at everyone interrupting his not-so-private conversation, "I'm only asking because I want to know if you can tell me how frog's legs taste," he stated, which made only to renew the laughter.

But there were at least two people who caught on, seeing Luna and Rose follow Professor Umbridge leave the staff table and go to him. Luna's smile and Rose's roll of eyes told him that they had an idea of what he meant.

"Mr. Potter, what are you doing here?" the hideous woman asked when she finally got to him.

"Well, I got into a dispute about something with my friend, so I came here to get a second opinion. Of course, I apologise for shouting, I was carried away. It won't happen again," he said politely, "Aside from that, I hope I'm not doing anything wrong? I mean, I haven't seen in regulations a rule that prohibits students to sit with friends from other houses during meals. Am I right?" he asked like a five years old just wanting to know...

"Yes, you are right," it was a wonder that it even got out of the woman's mouth, "But are you done yet?"

Thinking how Neville asked "if it would work with _anybody_", he stated that: "I've just got one more friend to talk to," Harry stated, walking away from Ravenclaw table, where a group got denser around Luna, since everyone needed to know what that was all about.

"Hey, Cedric," Harry said, sitting right next to the startled boy, "I just remembered a joke you might like. What is it? Green, click, red..." Harry said, watching him expectantly.

"What?" Cedric responded, seeing how the other boy wouldn't leave if he didn't.

"A toad in a blender," Harry replied, waiting for the reaction.

Cedric was speechless. He understood what Harry was referring to, but he couldn't believe that he was doing it outright when the woman in question had followed him and was standing only couple of steps away. He glanced that way, and... snorted with laughter, which then turned into a laughing-coughing fit, as the boy was trying to get control over himself. But every time he looked at the expression Umbridge was wearing, hearing just what kind of stupidity comes from Harry's mouth, the supposedly smartest student in the school, Cedric's fit just started all over again.

"Yeah, I thought you might like it," Harry said with a pleased expression, and like nothing happened, he exited the Great Hall that by now was buzzing with talks about just what _that_ was about?

* * *

Even when everyone stayed in heightened alert state because of the rumours that Harry, or someone, was at last going to do something about Umbridge, life in the castle stayed all the same. Surprisingly, because even as the High Inquisitor tried to "tidy things up", she wasn't able to change a single thing. She wasn't even able to deal with the obvious fraud, Trelawney, as her prophecies became coming true.

The first time Umbridge tried her scare tactics, the already stressed divination teacher, after insisting that the Inner Eye doesn't work well in stressful situations, "predicted" the first thing that came to her head. That a big pink elephant will float nearby...

Entirely true, as couple of days later a hot-air balloon in a form of an gigantic pink elephant, floated right past the castle. It was easy to rationalise that it had to be picked up by the strong wind before the muggles responsible for it were able tie it properly to the ground, and, while being pushed by the current, came here. But... who could have know that that would happen?

When asked, Harry had no idea bout the whole incident, even as he still refused to say what happened with the "carcass of the gigantic Easter Bunny" he and Neville "defeated" couple of years ago...

Umbridge, having everything in her tidy records, couldn't possibly fire Trelawney as a fraud, now could she?

But, given the strange standstill, with everything seemingly going in the best direction, the tension in the air just kept building, and everyone were sure that Umbridge would do something, anything... and soon.

It came just couple of days after Harry's little show in the Great Hall, when all students organisations were disbanded, and they couldn't gather again, if High Inquisitor haven't approved. It was clear that that eager group that approached Harry wasn't as clever as they thought they were.

But that was also the moment when the true meaning of Harry's little stunt came into play, that it was "open season for the Toad-woman", and he was the first one to throw the punch.

"Mr. Potter, why have I gotten another request for your little study group, when I have already allowed it to gather?" the woman asked him when she met him in one of the corridors. Most of the students only filed in case of something essential to them, like Quidditch, with the rest too fearful for their own safety to bother with having something they could live without.

But here he was, sending her not one, but two seven page files concerning his study group. She couldn't even complain that it was too long, as it was top-notch, Ministry level paperwork. Harry was sure to make it like that.

"But Professor, the first one was only for the Monday's study group. The other one is for the Tuesday, and since Neville is working with Professor Sprout during that time, he won't be able to attend. As it isn't the same group as in the first paperwork that is gathering, surely you must approve the change,"

It was true. According to her own rules, she _had_ to approve. The way his paperwork was formed – perfectly – she couldn't even think of a reason to disapprove beside "I don't have time to read all this and find that one thing that changed". Because whatever would change: people – which made for different group; the topics – essentially the same group, but gathered for different purpose; even the time and the meeting place – since he wouldn't want for other groups to be assigned to that particular place, making his group unable to work. If only one of those changed, he drew a new paperwork and delivered right to her. And, strangely, something _always_ changed

But that was just the paperwork. What with all the post, asking if they were allowed to meet. And if she would fail to respond, then they switched the time they meet as to not make any problems for her... resulting in a new set of paperwork being delivered.

Seeing that Umbridge started pretty much drowning in the applications, someone, just like Harry hoped, started thinking for himself, and, even if it was only mimicking the action, it was in entirely different style. Enough is said that it ended with students providing massive petitions to be allowed to gather, or how it was stated, to _group up_ for meals! If one of the houses weren't allowed, they refused to go to the Great Hall... Of course, House-elves wouldn't leave a student without a meal, so they started delivering those, but what Umbridge doesn't know, it won't hurt her. Well, in this instance it did, as there was more and more pressure on her.

In the end, she simply couldn't deal with the workload, so she thought, seeing as everything so far was perfectly legal, that she just might automatically approve everything. A bad call, since when only students noticed her more relaxed, or generally saw her more, but still got approvals for their meetings sent their way, they got the idea that the rule was simply void. Or rather than that, it was a commodity, since one could send request for anything, and, automatically, it was approved. Harry checked it first by writing that the meeting place for one of their projects was the moon, and meeting time: As soon as we build a rocket...

* * *

Since student's couldn't be counted on keeping such a secret like that newly found loophole in the rules, and sooner or later someone would have to do something over the top, Harry's group decided to use it while it lasted to check something Harry was wondering about for the longer time.

Ever since they came back to the castle, with only the five of them, the castle seemed... different. It was strange to say that it was more magical, but that's just how it felt. It was more alive, so to speak. But aside from that, Harry noticed something else. Sometimes he was able to feel things like, if his friends were in that particular spot before, sometimes even who it was...

But if he was able to feel that, and in the Room of the Requirements they all saw their creations, then why weren't they able to do the same outside? Something had to connect them in the enchanted room, since it was improbable that it brought everything they thought of to existence, as it wasn't what they were doing while concentrating, and also, it wasn't how they set the room up when they opened it during their training sessions.

That's why, using their knowledge of magical connections they gained the previous year, they decided to form one between themselves, hoping that it would alow them to see the world with the other's eye's.

Gathered in a circle in the Room of Requirements, with their eyes closed, concentrating on their need, the five friends recited together.

In friendship and in company we stay

To share and gain during every day

To live – started Luna

To grow – said Neville

To learn – added Hermione

To know – stated Harry

And to smile, and laugh, and sing

Rose added her own thing so cheerfully, that everyone shook their heads at just how kid-like she could be at times. Still, they got back to what they were doing:

To be ourselves but to form a one

To better understand everyone

We stay united without a fail

And like that, we will prevail

"Welcome to the coven," a voice startled everyone, even if Harry was used to hearing it.

They opened their eyes, and just couldn't believe how the world became... _more_. While before, they saw only what was their creation, now the room was full of strange animals running between plants that no man ever seen. Everywhere were books about them, filled with cartoonish pictures of the each creature... Only Harry's representation were nowhere to be seen, but that was only because... Magie was well behaved. He decided on that subtle lie, since he couldn't get himself to say that he was better trained in controlling her.

Of course, they weren't all there... Not really. It was more like looking at a water going between vapour, liquid and solid state, but more quickly and more fluidly that could ever be seen in nature. It was logical, since everyone of them had a different representation for their own spells, and once everyone settled on that thought, the world around them settled, leaving only couple of images left, and those only in a form that their creator saw fit – like Luna leaving the queen of Wrakspruts near her, as to unable the rest to come closer and make her brain fuzzy. Even while she knew all bout them now, she still used the same old stories... It was more fun that way, she said.

They turned to the person who had spoken, and they noticed Slytherin dressed in a nice coat standing couple of steps away, Magie behind him. Of course, first question that Harry had was:

"What's with the coat?" Harry asked.

"As I've explained it to you countless times, I'm only in your imagination, and even now your friends wouldn't be able to see me if not for this," he said, making the coat to fit better, "True, it's just a token from this little lady," he stated, pointing to Magie,"but it makes me appear as one of those gathered here," he finished, looking curiously at the menagerie gathered in the room.

"What did you mean when you said 'the coven'? Isn't it only for witches?" Rose asked, to push the subject into more important direction.

Salazar watched her for a while, then closed his eyes, and Harry could tell that he was searching for something in his mind. As much as he didn't like the idea, he got used to it just being that way.

"In modern world, it is," Slytherin said, opening his eyes again. "But in my days, it meant gathering of any kind. It may even be that it's because of us that it had been introduced in as sense that you know now."

"Because of us... You mean that you and the rest of the Founders formed one too?" Neville wanted to clarify.

"Yes," was the simple answer. "But to explain it better. A coven as a term I know, is a gathering of people who want to strive for a common goal. It's similar to an convent, in a way. All Christian convents have the same faith, that's obvious. But in different convents there are different rules. Like, there is a convent in which monks sweep ground in front of them with a little broom, because they decided that "Thy shall not kill" should be taken literally, and they wouldn't want to hurt even the smallest of creatures. It doesn't mean that they have totally different religion. It just means that that group of people think some matters, even in faith, are more important than others. Covens are similar, since every witch and wizard use the same magic, but some matters of magic may be closer or more important for you than others. Entering one means you decided to cherish those values or that cause, a goal, to the rest of your life," Salazar finished his explanation.

The five friends exchanged a look, because, seriously, they didn't know what, according to magic, they were supposed to do. Fortunately, Slytherin had an idea.

"Now, looking how you worded it, I think that you just..." he weighted his words, making everyone lean closer in anticipation, "became a family." the man finished, not finding any better comparison. "Well, in a way. I'm just trying to sum up helping one another, being there for each other, and staying together no matter what..."

Everyone looked at one another, but no one said anything as to not spoil the warm feeling that everyone got. Well, unless you count:

"I have sisters!" Rose tackled Luna and Hermione, squealing happily, making the older girls tickle her mercilessly in retaliation.

It only made the rest of the gathering to shake their head in wonder, how that girl _ever_ could play a "proper" Slytherin, like people nowadays though they should be.

"I don't think she got the idea that it's just an expression," Neville whispered, as to not get dragged into...fun...

"What can you do, brother?" Harry replied, making the other boy chuckle at the use of the word, because, strangely, he liked it.

"Better get out of here while we still have a chance," Neville proposed, standing up. A big mistake...

"Oh, no you don't, o _brother_ of mine!" Rose yelled, jumping on his back, making him to try and shake her off, why Luna haven't really been helping while he did so.

Harry just shook his head at what a strange group they were. But they were like that from a longer time than just now, haven't they? He haven't even noticed when they became more than just friends.

At that thought, he automatically looked towards Hermione, just in the moment that she looked towards him...

* * *

After Rose calmed down some, they noticed just how late it was getting, so everyone got going. But Harry had one more thing to do before he went to bed. So, while everyone hurried to finish their business before the curfew, he did the same with his.

He paced in front of the entrance to the Room of Requirements, thinking about something entirely different than their usual training room.

'I need to visit places in the castle,' he kept repeating in his head.

On his last pass, a simple door appeared. But when he entered...

Torches lit a tunnel which was, seemingly, without an end. All along the walls, there were doors on either side of the tunnel. He went to the closest, and read the plate that was on it.

_Transfiguration classroom  
_

He looked further, seeing that every one had one of those. He didn't have time to check every single one, so instead.

'Gladstone,' he thought, making a well known to him dog with a hat on top of his head to appear at his feet, 'Go, find,' he commanded, and the dog immediately started running down the hall, stopping to sniff a door every couple of steps.

Harry followed him, looking at doors to normal classrooms, but also entrance to the kitchen, which was the same portrait, even when Harry know that it couldn't possibly fit in a tunnel like this one. He stopped bothering with the scale of things when he came to the gigantic doors to the castle, which stood among other ones.

At one point, Gladstone stopped at one door, scratching it furiously. When Harry approached, he noticed a plate which simply state: _Storage room_.

He opened it, letting the dog in, and following himself. One step into the room and he could clearly see why it had been named as such. It was a very large room with row after row of unused for, from what he could tell, centuries things, or even contraband, if he could clearly distinguish some of the things from the nearest pile. It was clear that whenever someone wanted to hide something, he came here.

Harry turned, and opened the door again to see where in the castle this room was. To his surprise, he found himself once again looking at the Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to dance. It meaning that this was another thing Room of Requirements could change itself to, made him go for the dog instead.

He found him sitting next to a bunch of items, like a chipped bust of an ugly old warlock, but he didn't have to look long before his eyes caught the sight of a tarnished tiara, and immediately he knew that it was it.

'So, Rowena's diadem had the same unfortunate as mine...' Salazar said sadly, looking at the item.

'Ravenclaw's diadem? You mean the one-' Harry meant to ask, but was interrupted.

'No matter what you heard of it powers, it doesn't make you smarter. Rowena was plenty smart without that. The problem is that when you think about multiple, equally possible solutions, you might find yourself over thinking things, and unable to come to the ultimate decision. This diadem isn't supposed to make you smart. What it does is to make the person who wears it focused, minding only the most important matters, being able to make the wisest choice even among infinite amount of propositions,'

Harry thought about that, and Luna came to his mind. She still was who she was, fun even if a little strange, but the greatest difference of her now, and when she wasn't aware of her magic reacting like it did, was that now she was there all the time, while previously she seemed to constantly wander somewhere, making a conversation with her nearly impossible if one didn't have seven-league boots to make himself able to keep up with her.

'I guess I understand how that would work,' he responded simply, even as Slytherin wasn't there any more, unable to watch an item a friend of his spent hours to perfect defiled in such a dark way.

"Dobby," Harry called, grabbing some parchment and a quill that was lying nearby.

"Yes, Harry Potter?" Dobby asked when he appeared. By now, all the wrinkles vanished from his face, and if he was as tall as a man and not mind his large pointed ears, you could have easily mistaken him for a person in their twenties. He rarely came for the lily, but still wore it on his always-perfect tuxedo, like it was some kind of badge of honour.

"Could you send this diadem with this note to Ragnok, please?"

Dobby simply snapped his fingers, and the diadem along with the note vanished. Along with his physical appearance, his magical abilities also improved, and Harry wouldn't be surprised if the items he saw moments earlier were now on top of Ragnok's mail, perfectly wrapped.

"Would that be all?" Dobby asked after everything was taken care of.

"Well, how's your new assignment?" Harry asked with a smile, since the elf in front of him had just done something he himself couldn't even now do, but behaved like it was nothing.

"Your Godfather and his friend haven't blown up their kitchen in couple of months now, but keep complaining that their inventions don't work when they _think_ they're all ready," Dobby informed.

"Good, keep an eye on them," Harry said moments before the elf disappeared, sensing that that was all.

Harry on the other hand thought that since Diadem was when it was supposed to be, then where is the ring or the cup. Or how should he deal with the snake staying constantly at Voldemort's side...

* * *

AN. I know that Ratatouille is a little too new to be in Harry's times... But at this point, does anyone really care? It was the first thing that came to my head, so I stuck with it.

I've just re-opened the forum for this story, since, what the heck, it doesn't do anything if it just stays open. On the other hand, if anybody would like a place to talk about the story but there isn't one, I think it would be a bother. Registered Users can create topics, so no need to ask me.


	69. Chapter 69

Nope...

* * *

Nothing really mattered any more in the magical school that went by the name of Hogwarts.

House cup... well, who really paid that much attention to that one in the first place. Except for the end of year feast when everyone in the winning house started braging how much better they were, that group was very small in the first place, and it was teachers themselves, or rather Heads of Houses, who had the greatest ambition to get it. But it didn't matter any more.

Same thing with Quidditch. Well, not so much as with the House-cup, since it was still the favourite sport of the magical community. But with couple of games throughout the year, it simply wasn't such a big deal any more.

Well, there were couple of spotlight moments, like when Draco tried to insult Harry and the Weasleys after Slytherin lost a game, only for Harry to challenge him to a duel for insulting his family in response. At first Draco was all for it, since he remembered how Harry got his Lordship, and thinking that he might be able to do the same. But then he proved that he in fact had some brain in him, because he caught onto the trick Harry wanted to play.

If he would have agreed to the duel the way Harry stated it, it would mean that he wouldn't be facing only Harry, but Harry _and_ the Twins at the same time. Because, making it a "family" matter, and seeing how nearly everyone in the wizarding world were related, meant that Harry could bring everyone affected by the insult to defend their honour. The fact that Draco was badmouthing Weasleys moments earlier wasn't exactly helping him...

By the time that Professor Umbridge came down to see what the commotion was all about, Malfoy was running away as fast as he could.

But even that story didn't last long, because of the gossip mill not working as smoothly as it used to. In fact, it is enough to say that any previous little pleasures, hobbies or time wasters students did in the school simply flew out the window.

It wasn't because of some sort of natural disaster, an extraordinary event that would keep everyone's attention, or even a badly timed Dark Lord attack... The reason for such a disinterest in regular life Hogwarts students led so far was brand new game that overnight spread like a wildfire.

The game itself could be compared to Whack-a-mole, but with couple of exceptions. First of all, there was more that one person with a bat. In fact, a whole bunch of them. Secondly... there was only one mole. Or a toad, to be more exact...

After Harry's little display in the Great Hall, and especially his display how to prank someone without getting yourself in any kind of danger, people at last got the idea... And that was the day that the sky itself started falling on Dolores Jane Umbridge's head.

It was amazing how resourceful people were when they wanted to be, because, unlike what Harry thought migh happen, the new "Everything allowed law", like the Educational Decree Number Twenty-four was refereed to among the students, wasn't shut down after a while, but used to the fullest.

At first it was only about groups of students, but when someone noticed while receiving permission as an answer to a badly filled application, the allowance system worked for everything. When that was made public, there was a massive income of contraband into the school, as every student got themselves everything they always missed in Hogwarts. All with the written permission form The High Inquisitor herself.

Of course, some people also noticed that it could work with getting into Restricted Section of the library, only to painfully experience that Harry and his group put their own restriction, seeing that those books were hidden for a reason, and everyone having access to them could be potentially dangerous.

One could say that students doing whatever they wanted would be easily noticeable. That would be true, if not for the chaos that started raging throughout the Hogwarts grounds. And seeing that it all happened around only one of the staff, the rest of the teachers unanimously agreed to honour the long lasting tradition that "polite" pranksters should be left alone.

And truly, things that happened to Dolores Umbridge weren't all that horrible. Someone charmed all her things to various shades of green. Another person changed kittens that appeared on decorative plates that hung in her office to toads. Yet another occurrence was when someone charmed dozens of chocolate frogs to follow the aforementioned Proffessor, crying out "Mama!" instead of croaking...

The only thing that made this picture a whole lot worse for Dolores herself was that all of those happened at once. Not only those, but a lot whole more, because, seemingly over night, she got herself a whole school of pranksters on her head.

She was constantly assaulted by so much things, that even when Hagrid returned, all bruised and beaten, and once again started teaching his subject, he didn't even have the time to go and inspect his classes. But even if she would have done that, the way he was conducting his classes, with the one-on-one approach, while everyone else were doing notes, there probably wasn't an inspector that could have had an objection. Well, a fair inspector...

That was only one thing that Dolores was not. Another thing was disillusioned to her own mistakes, because throughout it all she haven't noticed that it was her own decree that was the main reason for the most things that happened to her, and as much as she wanted to find from where all those items came, things aproved by her own hand simply slipped through her fingers.

More observant person would step back and try to find the reason for it all, but that was just another trait tha Professor Umbridge didn't posses. She honestly believed that everything she did was spot on, and since the castle was fine when she came to it, her own decisions simply couldn't make everything _this_ bad, now could they?

So, while students were having more and more fun on her expense, instead of getting to the root of the problem, she started to patch the hole. And she did it the only way she knew to work – by adding even more rules. But those added under stress were even less thought out than those before. In fact, she simply banned anything that bothered her, like chocolate frogs, or colour green altogether – which only made to aggravate Slytherin students, sending another wave of pranks her way. Every new one worse than the one before.

But while all the things around Umbridge were so suddenly out of control, something that no one thought possible before started happening

When small groups of students were preparing for a prank, it was inevitable that on some point another group would be in the same area of the castle, in the same time, and even wanting to use the same object for their prank. And true, it did happen on more than one ocassion. But then, instead of people from different houses shouting at one another how "they were there first" they combined their ideas to make an even greater prank. Not only that, but some time after people started informing one another of the places and times they would be setting their pranks on. Harry's system of relating information seemed to be quite popular during that time.

Out of a sudden, from the chaos that was only multiplying with every following day, a system emerged. Whenever someone had an idea, immediately there was response to it, or someone proposed how it could have been improved. People scheduled their work so that Umbridge would be in the place where she would get it worst. It was still chaos, true, put that kind of spontaneous patterns clearly made their mark in the halls of the school.

Seeing how things were progressing, Harry was wondering if, by chance, he haven't started something that could be called "Pranking 101". But more than that, he was simply amazed just how much cooperation there can be, when many hostile groups are faced with a new common enemy.

Common enemy. He smiled at the thought, because he nearly forgot about one of the more important talks he had with the basilisk somewhere at the beginning of his life in the castle.

As much people talk about the common good, they don't truly desire it. When in the middle of the perfect world, or even only faced with vision of it, they immediately approach it thinking "What's in it for me?". But there is a thing that is more sure to bring people together that the vision of a perfect world. A common enemy. A problem that dealing with is in everyone's best interest. And even when dealing with it brings you closer to a brighter future, that's not really the point. Being there, shoulder to shoulder, struggling together to make things right, through the pain and sweat, no matter what it takes, people become closer. That's why there are so many examples of soldiers referring to themselves as brothers. People living through a near death experiences becoming as close as family. Because then and there, when staying together means the difference between the life and death, no one does the gain and loss calculations. It is only when everything settles down and there is no longer an imminent threat present that people start once again doing the mess of things.

* * *

"Potter!" Harry heard one evening while returning from the library. Immediately he recognised the person. Not really by the voice itself, more by that annoyed tone. The ruckus that followed her was also a nice clue.

"Yes... Professor?" he turned, and stopped, because coming his way was Dolores Umbridge, dressed like the fat lady, and hissing at every portrait she passed when they, compeled by magic, asked her how the hell was she able to leave her frame.

"You know who did this!" she demanded.

"No, Professor," Harry responded truthfully.

"You're lying!" she replied, clearly wanting to vent some frustration on anyone, "For that, you'll..." she started, already thinking how to use her newly appointed power to deal or change any punishment she wished to. But then, another person entered the conversation.

"Is everything alright, ma'am?"

They both turned to see the caretaker approaching, like always, his broom firmly in hand, and his cat lurking somewhere nearby, probably being the reason of him being here.

"Ah, Mr. Filch, you still have those chains and other items you mentioned to me some time ago?" she asked, already smiling brightly at such a perfect coincidence. At his nod, she continued, "Good. Why don't you take Potter here, as he just volunteered to help you _check_ if they still work properly," she announced, and after a pointed look, went back to her office.

Harry watched her leave, and the caretaker still standing there, but once the woman rounded the corner:

"You go along then," he heard, and turned to face Filch.

"Sir?" Harry asked, not sure if it wasn't some sort of a trick to get him in even greater trouble.

Filch smiled. A strange thing on his usually gruff face. But he answered the unasked question nevertheless.

"You're a good kid, Potter. You've been always polite, and your pranks had been actually funny. You've also trained those horrid Twins enough so their stunts weren't that messy for some time now. Not only that, but also all those things that are happening right now haven't left a spot on the floor. I guess I should thank you for that one too," the man said, and while he did so, Mrs. Norris, whose usual attitude was "Come just a little bit closer and I'll kill you", started rubbing against Harry's leg.

"Since I know you haven't done anything right now, you're free to go," Filch continued, making Harry think just how much the man could know about what happened in school, even without magic.

But in the moment when Harry finally decided to get going:

"And, Potter," he turned back at the call, "Only this once I will outright allow you to do a prank in the school, but do something about that woman, as she's seriously creeping me out," Filch said, a shudder running through his body.

Harry gave him a salute, and went on his way, making the old man shake his head at the kids strange behaviour.

Throughout the next day pranking spree aimed at Umbridge had been suspended, because the entire castle was wondering who had turned the toad woman into a walking advertisement of cleaning products, even so much as to make everything she touched clean to the point of shining. Meanwhile, Filch looked so smug and pleased that even without his usual glower in place, he was sending shivers down everyone's spines. Maybe even more so than usual...

All things considered, that was probably the moment when a certain story emerged, which would be told by upper-class student to first-years. A story about a caretaker who made everyone think that he was a squib, when in fact he was very skilled wizard, holding the scariest curse a student may think off, and lurking in shadows to cast it on anyone that misbehaved... Oh, yes. That was how "The Legend of the Filch's Touch" began.

Enough said, that from that point in time, Filch never again had any problems with students that disrespected him before.

* * *

Somehow, the school managed to survive all the pranks, and make it to the end of term. But even when most of the events happened around Umbridge, the school was still filled with people having their own ideas and needs. So, even while everyone looked in one direction, there still were many flares of genius happening in the castle, easily missed in the whole chaos.

The best example was probably one Neville Longbottom. When after one of the sessions in the library he noticed that it was in fact one of the last days before the Christmas break, he decided to have a little fun of his own. While Harry and Hermione were placing books on their proper places, he concentrated on the spot above their heads, and when everything was done, he stepped closer:

"Are you guys done yet? Luna and Rose are- Well look at that!" he exclaimed, pointing to the mistletoe they were standing under, "Someone hurried with the tradition, but seeing that tomorrow is the last day before everyone leave, I guess..." Neville continued with his speech.

Harry and Hermione weren't exactly paying attention. From the moment they noticed the mistletoe and their gaze snapped back down, they stood there, staring at one another like they've seen the other one for the first time in their lives. After what felt like a really long time, Harry finally broke the moment by smiling slightly, placing a stray lock of Hermione's hair behind her ear, something he found himself doing from time to time, and lowered his head... right in the moment when she stood on her toes to be just a little higher.

What at first was a pleased smile on Neville's face, quickly vanished. His plan to make fun of his friends because of the awkward kiss they would have to do in front of him, leaving them blushing furiously for him to snicker at, haven't exactly worked.

"Erm... guys?" Neville tried, not knowing what to do when that "peck on the lips" he was thinking about, haven't exactly stopped at that. And seeing what was happening, he was the one blushing furiously.

At Neville's panicked voice, Luna and Rose came around the corner, and stopped when they saw what he was so panicked about. Noticing the mistletoe, the two girls exchanged glances, saying voicelessly just how easy the solution was.

Because, for the last couple of months now, the two of them were trying to think of a way how to bring their two friends together. They both saw what was happening, with Harry and Hermione having feelings for each other, and a vague idea of the feelings of the other one. But they still were dancing around each other, with all those exchanged glances, and gestures that supposedly didn't mean anything. And, truth be told, Luna and Rose were sick of it.

Now, seeing that a simple mistletoe was all that it took, they decided to burn the stacks of parchments with ideas they made throughout the current school year. Saying nothing about the items they gathered to actually execute some of them.

Meanwhile, Neville wasn't exactly calming down.

"I don't... I m-mean... I... I... I didn't," he tried. He really, really tried to explain that he didn't mean to... but all he accomplished was to make the girls standing beside him think that he was trying to apologise for intruding on his friends. That, and confirming just how clueless men can be when it came to romance.

"It's alright Neville," Luna said, grabbing his hand and pulling him aside, "Just give them a minute," she added, pulling the still-shocked-boy in unknown him direction. Well, she didn't know where she was going herself. She just hoped there was another mistletoe somewhere nearby.

"Or five," Rose corrected Luna's assessment, as she was the only one left to leave some protections in place, so that no one stumbled upon the pair who, from the look of things, completely forgot about the rest of the world.

* * *

The next day though, even as it was still a school-day, Harry didn't have the opportunity to enjoy his new relationship with Hermione...

New relationship. How strangely that sounded. Not much changed from before. Well, yes, they kissed... maybe even a little too much. But it wasn't about that. If he would have to word it, the only thing that truly changed in their day to day behaviour was that element of freedom. Yes, freedom, because he was no longer restrained with questions about what he should do, and what wasn't appropriate.

All those previous "Are we sitting too closely?" or "Did that look mean what I think it did?" and so many more unknowns were all in the past. Now, whenever he wanted to, he could simply sit right next to her, without even thinking about it. It was clear that Hermione thought so too, when at the end of the previous day when they were reading materials for the next Potions class, she decided that she was too tired to read, and all of a sudden, closed her book, laid her head on Harry's shoulder, and demanded that he read it out loud, seeing that he was reading exactly the same thing. Enough said that Harry complied with a smile.

So, even if seemingly nothing changed outright, that new found freedom, that knowledge that you could simply be comfortable with another person made all those mundane task so much better. Now, how far that freedom went... That was yet to be found out, somewhere in the future.

Literally so, because on Thursday morning, right after he came down to the common room and before he had the opportunity to even start looking for his friends, he was intercepted by Professor McGonagall who told him that Headmaster would like to see him, _immediately_.

Since it sounded important, he took the most direct route, thinking what Dumbledore could want with him so early in the morning, and why exactly did Professor McGonagall tell it to him herself, instead of simply sending a note...

Well, the second one cleared up pretty quickly, when, passing right by the notice board, he became aware of the newest decision of the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts:

_Educational Decree number Number One-Hundred and Seventy-Nine:_

_Jumping-jacks are no longer allowed on Hogwart's grounds. Doing or compelling others to do them will result in detention or expulsion from the school respectively._

Now that was interesting. He didn't knew of any prank that included jumping-jacks, and quite frankly, he was interested in how someone used it. Simply making her do them all day long, as unimaginative, would still be funny. Well, he would know of it soon enough, as now it became customary that people recorded the result of their prank in one way or another, and present it to other groups for them to rate.

Truth be told, the whole thing became an outright game, since the overall rating that particular prank received was then summed up, and there was ongoing "Top10" list, with people who did the largest number of the best pranks, overall. It was without saying that Twins, with Rose in their little group, were constantly miles ahead of everyone else. But knowing who the best pranksters in the school were, or maybe because of that, didn't stop the rest of the school to continue the struggle, using their nicknames to eliminate the bias.

But what really interested Harry wasn't what already happened, but what was about to come, since a replay to a prank always came. He could already see people doing jumping jacks near Umbridge, only to say "I wasn't, really! It's just a twitch that I have!" or, "Ants! Ants went into my pants!" when she would like to punish them.

Possible ways of using newest ban to prank Umbridge again filled Harry's time as he went to the Headmaster's office, since he knew that most of the school was thinking about it too, but when he finally arrived to Headmaster's Office, he stopped abruptly, as a solemn looking Remus Lupin stared back at him.

"Remus? What's going on?" was the obvious question.

"Sirius had and accident," he responded, his voice as grim as his expression.

Harry took that in, but something wasn't right. Dobby became so well tuned with his magic, that he could tell when something would fall on a tablecloth he was responsible for keeping clean... while he was on the other side of the world. Knowing that, it was simply impossible for an accident to happen to Sirius. Not when Harry had asked the elf to look out for him and Remus. There was something strange going on, but for now, he decided to play along.

"I-Is he alright?" he asked in a shaken voice, the moment of silence after hearing the news only adding to his act.

"He's alright...sort of," Remus replied, wincing, "It's... complicated," he added, his back slumping at his inability to console Harry.

"Can... Can I..." the raven-haired boy tried to ask, turning to the Headmaster.

"Yes, of course. You can take this day off to be with your godfather," Dumbledore stated.

Harry only nodded, and went to the fireplace, where Remus was already throwing the Floo powder into the fire.

Harry never understood why magical community still kept screaming where they were heading whenever they used the Floo, when it was completely pointless. How could someone Floo to a location under Fidelius Charm, when the charm unabled anyone aside from the Secret Keeper to speak the exact adress.

In theory, it was impossible. In practice, people did it all the time. But that was only because you assume that you have to state where you're going, when in fact, you don't. That was also the reason why Fidelius was only as strong as the Secret Keeper. If someone managed to trick the person holding the secret to, not even tell them where the secret place was, but to simply to take them there, it was game over if that person was a traitor.

If you wake up in a strange place, you may not know what is the name of that place. You may not know the street, town, country or even the continent you're on... But you'll still know your imminent surroundings. As strange as it may seem, it is true that a wizard could live his life, going between his job, home and shop, without knowing if they were standing right next to one another, or miles appart. All it takes is for the wizard to be in a place once before, and magic will bend to his wish, placing him there.

But without knowing where were they going, he simply stepped through the green flames after Remus set it... and blinked in surprise when he stepped into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.

"Finally! You've got that book?" a strange voice, somewhere between a chipmunk and pure helium, startled Harry.

"Why bring a book when you can have a walking encyclopaedia?" Remus said moments later, dusting himself off.

There was silence after that, interrupted only with footsteps. Well, if you could call a sound which would be suitable only in a cartoonish scene of a person sneaking on their tiptoes. The sound grew louder and louder, and in the moment when Harry thought that someone will round the corner... it simply grew louder still. He frowned, but then:

"Come one then, Mr. Wise-guy, tell me what exactly have I done wrong," that same strange voice sounded from right next to Harry's feet.

He lowered his head, and a caricature of Sirius came into his field of vision, looking up on him expectantly. Or rather, caricaturish Sirius, as it was clearly the man, but with only his head being it's proper size. The rest of him was closer to a puppet's body, than anything suitable for a man.

Harry turned to stare at Remus incredulously, but then, something in his expression made it all to fall into place.

Sirius just got pranked. Remus did something to make the man think that he did some horrible mistake, and try to bend his head over what happened, when in fact, he did nothing wrong. That's why Dobby didn't do anything, as everything went just like it was supposed to, even if Sirius got totally screwed.

As for Remus doing the entire show in the Headmaster's office, and getting him a day off. Well, it was for the same reason that everyone in the school made their pranks known.

A prank wasn't exactly it, if you didn't have an audience.

* * *

AN. This was bloody horrible to write. So many things kept showing up that I had to literally write a sentence at a time. Sorry for any parts that simply feel out of place, as I don't even have it in me to try and edit it at this point. I just hope I'll get some free time soon.


	70. Chapter 70

Do you guys have a deja vu? Because I seriously think that I already told you that I'm not J. K. Rowling... No? Hmm... Strange.

* * *

Harry had some problems to adjust to this new shift in the world. Listening to the stories of their youth, you might think that among the Marauders Remus was the responsible one, a person who would keep an eye on things while kids were out, playing.

No such luck. As polite, well behaved, and responsible the man was, it didn't change a thing in the fact that he was cold blooded... well, Marauder. That realisation on itself may have been hard enough, but given that it was delivered through a pranked Sirius, it got just so much more bizarre.

Among all of this, Harry had another revelation. He finally understood that weird thing about those moments in life when you simply keep going, thinking that everything is all well, but only when you stop, turn, and watch all that burning wreckage and crumbled buildings... You get the point.

At first he was all for it to play along, since from the way the man was acting, he knew that Remus had to have the solution for Sirius' little problem, but didn't use it because watching his best friend pulling his hair out was too much fun. And it was. Even as being too much. Because going from one thing to another, Harry himself lost focus of things, and couldn't exactly remember how it so happened that they ended admitting Sirius to St. Mungo's, under the pretence that it was his only hope to get back to normal. Truth be told, Harry wasn't even sure who proposed it outright.

As it was, Sirius had to spend more than couple of days in the magical hospital, at which Harry was once again reminded just how much easier it is to protect oneself from harm than try to undo the damage. But that could be only due to all the paperwork that had to be filled by hospital's staff.

The entire affair, with one meaningful, silent look between Remus and Harry had been filed under "The thing we don't talk about, which at one point is bound to get out in one way or another, but hopefully long into the future, at which point Sirius will simply laugh his ass off instead of killing us" category.

* * *

It was on Christmas day that Sirius was granted his wish, and was returned back to his original size and proportions. Strangely, the hospital still needed someone to sign the release form, taking the once-again-fully-grown man under their care, which raised a long discussion between Remus and Harry if that was simply a hospital policy, or, since those kind of accidents happened only to five-year olds who happened to get their hands on their parents wands, the staff decided to treat him like one, just to be sure.

But while they were heading towards Sirius' room on the Spell Damage floor, Harry noticed someone familiar about to go into one of the rooms.

"Neville!" he called coming closer, at which Neville jumped and cowered as though a bullet had narrowly missed him.

Harry nodded to Remus in that usual I'll-catch-you-later way, before he went to his friend, who was still standing in the door-frame.

"It's just me," Harry said, at which he received a dejected kind of look in response, making him that there was something strange was going on.

"Friend of yours, Neville, dear?" came from inside the room, after which a old looking woman, with a hat that had a stuffed vulture on top of it came out to see who was it.

'Ah, so that's how it is,' Harry thought to himself, immediately recognising the person as Neville's grandmother. Even as Neville made good progress to get over his low self-esteem, it was in school, and it seemed that when he found himself near someone like his grandmother, or someone else from his family, he instantly reverted to his former role as a meek person.

"Ah, yes," said Neville's grandmother, looking closely at Harry and sticking out a shrivelled, claw-like hand for him to shake. "Yes, yes, I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of you."

"That's nice to hear," said Harry, shaking hands. Neville did not look at him, but stared at his own feet, the colour deepening in his face all the while. "I was just going to see my Godfather, since he got himself in trouble once again a little while back, and noticed Neville, here," he replied casually, "Actually, I was just about to ask who were you visiting?" he asked, turning to his friend.

"What's this?" said Mrs. Longbottom sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?"

Seeing his friend getting smaller by the second, Harry decided to intervene.

"Parents?" he asked curiously, directing Augusta's focus once again to him, "Yes, of course he told me about his parents, but I thought that, even in the state they're in, they would be better of closer to family, under private care. I didn't thought that they were still in the hospital,"

His response received two stares. When Neville heard what he said, his gaze immediately snapped right back up, staring at Harry like he saw him for the first time in his life. Augusta on the other hand, looked at Neville like she couldn't believe that he really did it. That just made Harry think that the woman was trying to discredit everything that her grandson did. But he thought that only to the moment when a soft glint begun to shine in her eye. Harry thought that that just might be pride shining through. But before she could even get herself to give Neville even slightest sign of approval, she changed train of thought.

"Private care?" the woman asked, becoming interested.

"Well, I don't know how it is in magical community, but in the muggle world you can take your relatives home and hire professional personnel to take care of them..." Harry could explain only this far, as a wizard responsible for care over Longbottoms caught her attention, giving her perfect opportunity to ask if such care was possible to procure.

"Y-you knew?" after his grandmother left, Neville spoke for the first time. Harry only nodded, but seeing the look that clearly asked 'But how?', he had to explain.

"It's not like it's some sort of great mystery. Old journals are still there, and stories haven't changed since they have been taken to the archives. I guess it's just that people don't like to read or remember about sad or painful things that happened," he said, and seeing that Neville was going to ask something in really desperate way, "Don't worry. I haven't told anyone. It's your story to tell," he interjected, having a good idea what it was about.

He was right, seeing Neville giving a big sigh of relief. Then the boy once again started looking a this feet.

"I..." he muttered, but stopped, "I-I just..." he tried again, and once again stopped mid sentence.

"You're just afraid that people would laugh if you told them?" Harry asked instead, and Neville nodded sadly. "If that happened, I would seriously consider taking the one who seems to be the surest of them all, the usual Malfoy of the bunch, and dragging him through half the things your parents went on their own. Then ask him again if he finds the situation funny," the Malfoy comparison actually got a slight smile on Neville's face.

"Because, seriously," Harry continued, "All those stories about heroes protecting the weak, laying their lives at risk for the good of others... People don't laugh at that. It's the other way around. They want to be like that, just don't have enough character to stand their ground. And your parents, they are among those heroes, and their story deserves to be told. The only problem with it is that they live in the real world, not a fairy-tale, and here, there isn't always that "happily ever after" at the end of it all," Harry said, giving Neville a fresh perspective on things.

"And you shouldn't be saying that you're scared either. I mean, you're the bravest man I know. If you're scared, what hope does the rest of us have?" Harry said, only half joking.

Neville caught on, but had to make a double take on that to make sure.

"I can't be the bravest you know. I mean, look at yourself. With all the things you've done-" Neville started arguing back, more animatedly than before.

"Nah," Harry shook his head, disrupting Neville's frantic response. "I mean, you can say that I'm doing some careless things at most. But since I usually have everything planned out beforehand, you can't exactly say it's bravery. I mean, it's not much of a fright, jumping of a tall building while you know that there's always that safety net to catch you, right?" he replied, and then got a more serious look on his face.

"But it isn't exactly bravery in face of danger I'm talking about here. I mean... My parent's died," Harry stated, and it was one of that rare moments when he was talking seriously. "I know that for sure. I can deal with it, find some closure, move on with my life... You on the other hand, with your parents like that. On one hand, they're right here. On the other, you partially know that it's never going to be like you would like it to be... But even with that, you keep going on with your life. I mean. I'm not exaggerating here that you have to have a lot of character to deal with that kind of strain,"

Neville, seing the intensity in the way Harry was looking at him, didn't even question his words, simply stood there, mesmerised by the idea just how much someone could see in him.

"You're really your parent's son," Harry continued, smiling at his friend, "And you have more good traits in you that you would ever admit. That's why I constantly repeat that you're selling yourself short. Just look at all the things we did together. They just prove how much you can do – if you're motivated enough," he finished, outright grinning.

Neville himself was wearing a shy smile, thinking about all the good time they had at school together. Then he lost it, as his eyes widened.

"All the things we do..." he muttered, turning once again towards the raven-haired boy. "Harry..." he started, somewhat uncertain. "You know, all the things _you_ do..." he said, glancing between his friend and a curtained corner of the room they were standing in front of. "Could you.. you know..." Neville, as hard as he wanted to, didn't have it in him to verbalise his request. He haven't even thought what exactly he was asking for. He had been disappointed so many times, that he didn't want to create any false hope to cling to.

Harry on the other hand frowned in thought.

Insanity. In theory, it was quite a logical thing. Well, it wasn't like someone could live doing completely chaotic things all the time. It was more about those subtle changes in perspective that made normal people do completely unpredictable things.

It's better noticeable when you limit someone's conciousness to a simple decisive element – like an mathematical equation. You feed it information, let it run it's course, and at the end, you get your answer, which in real world would be a proper reaction to the situation you had found yourself in.

Insanity isn't throwing that entire thing out the window, and placing a picture of dancing pink and fluffy unicorns in it's place. While some people may behave like exactly that happened, it's due to something different. Even if it's something inconspicuous.

It begins with something as easy as people mixing up addition and subtraction. If you would ask someone to add two things, and he would give you the wrong answer, checking everything through, eventually, you would find that he subtracted it instead. But it requires another person to do the checking.

It is unbearably hard to find mistake in your way of thinking, and only few among many have it in them to correct themselves on their own, somehow managing to look at things from another perspective. But most, if they would make such a mistake, they would carry on, even if their simple decisive algorithm from before, gave them garbage as a response. Not only that, but their way of thinking would try to balance itself on it own, trying to return to the right result – but that usually ends with even more mistakes being added.

The reason why Psychiatry is a field of science of it's own, is because the simple decisive algorithm as we called it before, is not so simple after all. In reality it's something around one mile long and ten storeys high, composed of every possible interaction, emotion, and thought a person may consider, having to deal with all the situations life may bring before you.

While reactions may vary from person to person, given their life's experiences, change that simple plus into minus in someone's thought patterns, and they will have a big problem on their hands.

"I might try," Harry replied in the end, not really thinking that he might be able to fix everything in a second, but simply try spot that thing that might be wrong.

Neville nodded, knowing himself that his idea could die as quickly as it was brought to life. Still, they made their way to two beds in the corner of the room, hidden behind screens. There, sleeping, were Neville's parents. They no longer looked like newspapers showed them – happy, full of life. Even while simply lying there, they still managed to make impression of someone touched by life, especially with their faces, much thinner than they should be.

But Harry didn't linger on that for long, asking Neville to help him set the two hospital beds together. The commotion brought Augusta Longbottom back, since she had just finished her talk.

"What are you trying to do?" she snapped at first glance of the scene.

"You know when I told you of all those things that Harry can do?" Neville said, coming to stand right in front of his grandmother. Surprisingly, his resolve was much firmer that at any previous time when he spoken to her. "I asked him if he could help my parents,"

"H-help?" Augusta repeated. It seemed that Neville's behaviour have made her lose her balance, because normally, she would outright dismiss the idea. Instead, "But what could you do to heal them?" she asked.

"Truth be told, I'm not counting to achieve anything," Harry answered truthfully, "But what I can promise you is that I won't do anything that migh harm them," he added, citing the first rule of a good doctor: Do no harm.

"Please, gran, just let him try," Neville pleaded.

Augusta was horrified by her own decision, but... there was something in the whole scene, especially the way her grandson so suddenly became so sure of himself, that in the end, she only sighed with a slight nod.

Only then Harry continued his preparations. He laid down between the sleeping figures, since his body wouldn't be useful for him for a while, and grasped his hands around one of theirs. Just before he closed his eyes, he glanced upwards towards Magie, who, while sitting near the headrest, slowly stroked their hair.

* * *

Strangely, insanity comes from the minds need to protect itself. That's why it is not so uncommon for a person to forget, or rather, repel the occurrence from their memory, after traumatic events.

Even Harry had to say that, truthfully, he was an insane person. Seeing people that really weren't there? Spending countless hours in a city he unconsciously built in his mind? Talking with, well, himself, even if it was in the form of his thoughts? Yep, he was crazy.

The only reason why he haven't committed himself to a psychiatric ward, either magical or regular one, is the fact that it worked. At least for him. His so called craziness was allowing him to live at least somewhat regular life and coexist peacefully with the rest of society. That's why he wouldn't call himself, or people like him, insane. "Reasonably broken" was a better term.

And, yes. There were people like him. And a whole lot of them. Like Alastor Moody, since everyone knew he was paranoid. But... come on. The man was in so many dangerous situations that his stressed out mind, to get at least some rest, switched from thinking who could be a threat, to simply asuming that everyone was just that. The only reason he was still allowed in the society was that it worked. For him. Because, when before he had to question his action, always in doubt if someone was or wasn't threat, now he only had to concentrate how serious the really was, and keep his eye on those that he had to be afraid of.

Even Albus Dumbledore himself, the leader of the light, wasn't so well as everyone else thought. The man had so many things on his head that more often than not he resolved to "It worked so far" approach, using proven solutions he acquired throughout his life to solve modern problems. Why nobody cared about him becoming more and more senile? Because it worked. For him. So far... But it wasn't so often that a truly original problem appeared, which couldn't be, even if only placated, by old remedies.

Probably everyone was like that, strange in all kind of ways which people commented only "It's that kind of character". No it isn't. It's simply the fact that someone, throughout his or hers life, acquired simple methods to deal with the strain. And that was why Harry chose to call himself "reasonably broken" and not normal.

He knew that he had his shortcomings, and he liked to keep that in mind. Because he learned long ago, that the moment you start calling yourself normal, thinking that there is nothing wrong with you... That's the exact moment when you start calling the alarm bells "background noise" which shouldn't be paid any attention.

From being reasonably broken to being insane, there is only a short trip away. Like with him, if he chose to life in his City permanently, forgetting about the real world. Or Mad-eye deciding that everyone was a threat. Or Albus Dumbledore resolving every matter by giving people candy...

All of those are dangerous, as he would die, not able to care for his body in the real world. Mad-eye would probably take out anyone in sight before he would be taken down. And candy don't exactly solve everything, no matter how hard Albus would like to think that...

That's when people should be treated. When they become dangerous – to themselves or others. People who attack another person because "they looked at me funny" and beating them up seamed a reasonable response. Likewise with people who throw away their life, thinking that they can't take any more, while everyone else around seem to be doing reasonably well.

The trick is, to find where is the element that throws the response to the situation out of proportion.

Like with pain. Normal response to too much pain is fainting, when brain shuts down, to be able to take a break from the overwhelming signals. But too much of it for too long, and mind will find another way to protect itself...

That's why while floating among scrambled memories, Harry wasn't exactly looking just how out of place they were. Legilimens looking through it would just say that there is no sign of conciousness in any of it. But that was just the trick. Locking the mind far away from any exterior influence.

Harry wasn't looking at the memories. He was looking through them. He was trying to catch the bigger picture. A pattern. Something as flimsy as a bubble gliding, unharmed, through a thorny bush. And even as you would dismiss the thought of something like that being possible, with all it's swirling colours, it would be a perfect place to hide away and not care about anything. To form your little safe-haven...

* * *

It was a sunny afternoon in the park, with kids running around the little playground, playing various games, and parents that were watching them chatting nearby about a thing or another. Harry tilted his head back with his eyes closed, so he could listen more closely to this iddylic music as he sat on his bench in a shade of an old tree.

"That's my seat," a voice reached him.

He turned, and looked at the little girl standing not far away from him, with a round face, so similar to her son's.

"Hello, Alice," Harry replied with a smile.

"Who are you again?" she asked, tilting her head.

It was clear she wasn't afraid of him. Why should she? It was her world, it was only natural that everyone knew her here, even when she didn't have to know everyone by name. And without any memories of anything harmful, why should she be afraid of anything?

Everyone else though, instantly became aware of his presence. It was as if in one instance, all life ceased. Everything became steady as stone. Parents watching him with their unwavering gazes. Kids frozen mid place, and looking at him, in any second ready to point their fingers at him and call "Stranger!".

"Just a wandering wizard," Harry answered with a smile, extending his empty hand, an making a candy appear in it.

Alice's expression changed to wonder as her eyes widened. Then she tilted her head.

"I don't feel like eating candy. Can you make peanuts instead?" she asked.

Harry chuckled, and after passing his other hand over the candy, he presented the girl with a perfect example of a peanut.

Guardians haven't felt no ill will or lies from him, and just like if someone had pushed a play button, life resumed it course, without the little girl noticing anything.

They two of them sat on the bench, eating peanuts which Harry made by bags. It seemed that even while not in his own mind, he still could form the world around him. Or was it that he only needed to initiate it, with the little Alice playing along doing the rest of the trick?

"Why haven't I seen you here before?" the girl asked, after some time passed while they were just sitting there.

"I just got here. I'm a wandering wizard, have you forgotten already?" he replied.

It just made Alice shake her head that, even if the man was a fairly good wizard, he couldn't make a funny joke.

"Then where were you before?" she asked instead.

"Over there," Harry responded simply, pointing in a direction with his head.

Alice looked that way, and noticed something she haven't before. A wall with a door-frame. But instead of doors, it was sealed with yet another, this time brick, wall.

"Where does it lead?" the girls asked curiously.

"Would you like to know?" Harry asked.

Alice looked at the playground she spent so much time on, then once again towards the door. Then she turned to look straight at Harry, but after a moment of deliberation, she nodded her head.

"Okay then," Harry said, stand. "Lead the way," he said, making the girl go first.

He watched the guardians, but this time, nothing happened, with everything happening as it did thus far – children playing with adults watching them closely. It's her world, he reminded himself. If she would feel threatened, they were there for her, but if she wanted to go, they clearly could do nothing to stop her.

He caught up to the little girl, who at this point was standing in front of the door-frame, and running her hands along the bricks, looking for any way to get through.

"It's blocked," she complained as soon as she caught the sight of him.

Harry smiled at that, and decided to use an old trick Magie though out long time ago. It worked well the first time round.

"There's something missing," he pointed out, while handing here a piece of chalk.

Alice glanced at the chalk, then watched the brick wall closely, and after a while, stepped closer and drawn a round doorknob. She turned to look at Harry, silently asking if that's it. He tilted his head, and kept watching the door. When she followed his gaze, she blinked in surprise, because where once was only her drawing on a flat brick, now a pearly white doorknob was sticking from the wall.

With a startled expression, she turned once again to Harry, but he just mouthed "Magic", and that was all that it took to make her grin.

"Go on then," he said out loud, which made the girl look at him once again.

"You're not coming?" she asked.

"Oh, no. I'll be a step behind you. But since I was there before, I think it would spoil your adventure a little if I showed you where everything is," he stated, lowering his voice to a conspirational whisper.

He haven't said that just to calm her down. Since it was a cage she built for herself, he couldn't do anything more than showing her the door. The decision of leaving it place, and opening the door... That she had to do on her own.

But thought of adventure and unexplored lands was enough to spike the interest of a girl that never knew any harm, and immediately she was grabbing the doorknob and stepping through the door.

Harry only took one last glance at the playground in which there was no one left, and closed his eyes to prepare himself for departure when the sun began flaring. He left just moments before the bubble burst, dispersing into bits and pieces it was composed of.

* * *

Opening his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that it was no longer only Neville and his grandmother that were watching him. It seemed that the wizard that was doing rounds came just at the time he was sleeping, and not able to deal with Augusta Longbottom, brought his supervisor... That of course brought even more attention, and there was a small crowd of people gathered around the bed.

He stood up, and got of the bed, but before anyone could tell him just what he thought of the whole thing, they froze up. He turned, and looked at the fully grown Alice stretching in her bed, like if she had a good nights rest.

Immediately everyone was by her side, and Alice, seeing Augusta through her mind fogged by sleep and decades of disuse, said:

"Mum?" her voice hoarse because she haven't spoken in a while, "I had a strange dream about a wizard that gave me peanuts,"

Medical staff looked among each other, not knowing if this was a good thing, or another spout of insanity. But before they could judge... Frank shoot up in his bed, and sat there for a while with his hand extended like he was about to catch something.

Harry glanced at Magie who just appeared, thinking just what she had put the poor man through to get him out of there. He didn't have to wait long for the answer.

"I was playing with a brown bellied dog," he said, glancing at everyone present, "Have anyone seen where he had run to?" he asked, making the staff to fall into even greater consternation.

Meanwhile, Neville who stood still from the shock, looked towards Harry, and after seeing the toy dog in Magie's arms, he simply smiled in thanks, and headed to join his grandmother who at the moment was crying her eyes out, not really listening to stories of some fancy hide and seek games her son was talking about.

* * *

AN. Damn, this was meant to be just one scene in the chapter, but got a little longer than I expected.

Once again I would like to remind you all that I know pretty much nothing, about anything. Or at least that's how you should treat whatever you read here. I gather scrapes of information and twist them to suit me.

And of course, this type of text is taken straight from the books.


	71. Chapter 71

Has there ever been the case of an author posting fan-fiction based on his or her work? I haven't heard of J. K. Rowling doing that, so I don't understand why would you even assume that I'm her.

* * *

Longbottom's went home the very same day.

They were far from being okay, but Augusta minded Harry's comment on private care, and decided to hire the best of the best to take care of her children. Immediately it was proposed that it would be best for the two to spend as much time as possible among people and things they knew, to stimulate their memory.

Because, even while everything was still there, after not using their minds in their full capability for over decade, their memories weren't in the best of conditions. They confused happenings with similar ones from the past, changed them slightly, or had to think hard about something to remember it at all.

That, combined with the fact that world around them, even if it was wizarding world, changed, with the hardest thing to get used to being that their child was almost all grown up, made them unfitted to be up and about in an instant.

But the most important thing was that they were there again. And with them being concious of their surroundings, under care of experienced personel who already had whole set of memory and mind workouts prepared, it was only a matter of time when they would be back to normal.

Not saying much, it was the biggest Christmas party that was thrown in Longbottom Manor in quite some time.

But Harry couldn't be there, as, even when he was starting to get convinced by Neville's grandmother that after all he's done he should be treated as a part of the family, there was another Christmas surprise that was just about to fall from the sky.

* * *

Harry came back to Grimmauld Place to tell someone what happened so far... But mysteriously, there was no one in sight.

He looked throughout the house, wondering where everyone might have left, but while he climbed the stairs, a voice which he wasn't prepared to hear caught him of guard.

"No one's here,"

He turned, and stared at the person casually standing in the door-frame of one of the rooms, thinking that perhaps he was hallucinating the whole thing. Clearly, it wouldn't be the first time that he imagined something.

"Except for me, that is,"she added, not minding much the state he was in.

"Hermione?" he asked stupidly, making her smile a little.

"Well, it just so happens to be my name," she replied, receiving snort of laughter from Harry, who only now had noticed just how much she had changed, spending so much time with him.

"But... why are you here?" he asked, wincing himself at how it sounded after the words left his mouth.

"And here I thought you would be happy to see me," Hermione said broken-heartedly, or was she simply playing with him?

"Well, I would..." he replied hastily. Maybe too hastily, as moments later, "I mean, I am! I am happy to see you," he corrected himself.

"I don't know what to think any more...I guess I should simply pack my things and go," she added melodramatically.

Yep, she was playing with him. Harry face palmed himself, closing his eyes in silent defeat, seeing as his usual weapon of choice, confusing people, was turned against him. When he opened his eyes again, she was still standing in the door-frame, but now arms crossed over her chest, and a superior smirk on her face. He threw his hands in defeat. If he would have had a piece of white cloth on him, he would hastily make a white flag out of it.

"Could I listen to the full story now, please?" he asked with a tired sigh, making her chuckle softly.

"Well..." she started slowly, but in the end she decided that she had her fun already, "I went on that trip with my parents, as you know, but after some time, they stated outright that they could see I'm not having as much fun as I was saying I was. I don't know, I guess they decided that I'm in _that_ age already, and clearly told me that if I feel like staying with my friends, I should simply do just that," she finished with a shrug, and again that mischievous smile crept on her face, "I guess I now understand what they meant. You know, about having fun..." she stated, which resulted only in Harry giving her Let's-not-talk-about-it-ever-again look.

"But aren't your parents going to miss you?" he asked to make sure it was alright.

"They're adults, Harry. I would hope that they can take care of themselves," she stated, but after a while, "And I guess two people in love know how to find ways to... _entertain_ themselves."

Harry had to make a double take on that. Was she stating what he thought she was? Still standing there in the door-frame of what seemed to be her bedroom.

"Well, to finish the story, couple of days ago I contacted Weasleys if they could pick me up, you know, considering that it was international trip. This morning Twins brought me back," she finished like there wasn't anything strange in her previous statement.

"Wait. Twins brought you back? And they haven't even tried to play any prank on you?" He asked, slightly worried by that thought. But then he began thinking when exactly had he made his way to her, seeing just how closely he was standing.

"I would like to think that they're too afraid of me knowing too many possible ways to retaliate to do anything... But I guess it's more because of the fact that they, in known only to them, strange and twisted definition of the word, respect you too much to do anything to your _girlfriend_," she stressed the last word. As much as she hated it the previous year, with the whole Rita's article affair, now she seemed to love it just as much.

"So..." Hermione said, to break the silence where Harry was just standing there, staring at her, running the whole conversation over in his head, slightly tempted to ask Magie to check if this, in fact, wasn't one of Twins' jokes. But in the end:

"So... you say we're all alone, in a big, old, spooky house, on a Christmas day... And I don't really have a present for you since I sent it this morning," he started, but then his eyes widened, "Hedwig's going to kill me for making her fly both ways for nothing," he whispered with horror laced in his voice.

"Truth be told," Hermione caught his attention again, chuckling softly at his fear of the lovely owl, "I don't have my present for you right now, as well," she admitted.

"Then what are we going to do?" Harry asked helplessly.

"I don't know," Hermione replied in the same way.

But from the identical smiles that appeared on their faces, it was clear that they had roughly the same idea.

* * *

It was after quite some... _quality_ time, and not before people started coming back home, did Harry learn why the house was so deserted in the first place.

It seemed that last minute job Mr. Weasley had to take care of didn't go as well as planet, since, when he was distracted with the Instant-mummy toilet paper, a Gayser toilet caught him by surprise in the back. He had to be taken to St. Mungo's, and alarmed family quickly hurried to make sure it wasn't something serious. It wasn't, and Arthur was back to enjoy Christmas dinner with his family.

Sirius, on the other hand, who just came out of the hospital, decided that he had to make up for the lost time, and went out to do something fun for a change. Remus simply couldn't let him go alone, so went with him to supervise... Harry didn't knew if that thought should have made him calmer, or even more alarmed. They came back in time for the desert. But they didn't get any because of the circumstances.

Somewhat sober, they carried in a figure of a little chef that could only be taken from the doorstep of a pizzeria, stating loudly that "Shorty will be living with us from now on". Seeing just how many teenage pranksters were in the room when that happened, that story would haunt the two older wizards for years.

In the end, Harry also learned that Hermione volunteered to stay behind, since someone had to be there when he came back, to tell him about all that happened, and keep him company. Well, he didn't learn everything at first, but he truly didn't mind the wait up.

All in all, it was one crazy Christmas, and with all the chaos and surprises that happened, Harry had to say that it was best Christmas he had ever taken part in.

* * *

It was only couple of days later when the outside world reminded everyone about itself, as an emergency meeting of the Order of the Phoenix was called, and Harry had a pretty good idea what it was about, even before being told.

He still kept Voldemort's mind _entertained_, but he never assumed that it would be a permanent solution. Something, at some point, had to happen, and it seemed that it had already started.

With the Dark Lord taken out of the picture, Death Eaters showed that they in fact had some brain of their own, and weren't as fear driven as Harry initialy thought. That, or they only now reminded themselves of their own mental faculties, and thought that they could score some points and find themselves in their Lord's good graces, once he was well again, and noticed what they have done in his name.

Obviously, they didn't move Voldemort away from the power, electing a new leader to decide what they should do until their proper master came back. Seeing that, at least pretty much everyone from the Inner Circle, was as much power hungry as Voldemort himself, they would kill themselves before they unanimously selected one of their ranks.

Open attacks on the general population were out of the question for the same reason. To do a successful raid to infuse fear in the people present, one person wasn't enough. Well, one person was enough, but only in the case if he wanted to become a martyr for the cause. One person could be easily located, bringing all attention to themselves. That's why Death Eaters worked in larger number, positioning themselves throughout the location, sending death and destruction flying from different angles, and leaving before the crowd decided in what direction they should be running to, to get away from the danger.

But again, to for such a group, there would have to be a consensus among the group leaders about who belong in what group. Since everyone would pick the best wizards, as to form the strongest unit possible, and be as sure as possible that there won't be any screw ups, once again the "Kill each other before reaching agreement" case came into play.

With those two out, there was the last thing Death Eaters could do to score points. Recruitment. And that was where the problem began. With all of the wizards in Voldemort's ranks concentrating only on that one thing, even if only few of them were successful, it still gave a lot of people with shady backgrounds coming to the country.

Following the news, you wouldn't find a single story screaming about Death Eater activity. But looking more closely and piecing all the information together, the destruction formed a clear path, as those that just came simply had to make themselves "at home" in their new environment. Problem was that they did that with the things they knew to do best – theft, mayhem and murder.

Albus Dumbledore seemed to notice it too, and deciding that it would be much better to take care of it now, instead of when the matter went out of control. That's why once again everyone gathered in the kitchen of Grimmuald Place number twelve. But, just like always, there seemed to be a problem to be solved before the proper matter of the meeting could be addressed.

"Harry, dear, you shouldn't be here,"Molly Weasley said in the moment she caught sight of him coming through the door.

"Don't be silly, Molly," Sirius said, coming in just behind his godson, "He's a legal adult. He deserves to be here as much as the Fred and George," he stated, pointing with his head to the pair already sitting at the table. That only resulted in Molly throwing them a look clearly stating that she didn't approve of it either.

"But Harry's much to young for this," the Weasley matron returned to the original topic. "Harry, dear, think what your parents would want you to do,"

That stopped him in his track. He didn't like when people used someone's else memory to suit their needs. It was like reaching the last, desperate straw before admitting that you've run out of arguments.

But he really thought what his parents would think of all the things he did. He thought long and hard, to the point of deciding that it was pointless to think about it. Even if he would know exactly what were his parent's wishes, there was no chance that he could satisfy them at his every step. All he could do was to do what the rest of the people his age did. Make the best of the life he had, and simply hope that somewhere in the future they would be proud of the person he was. The very thing he was doing everyday.

That's why he didn't argue with Mrs. Weasley. He simply smiled at her and said.

"I guess you have a point there, Mrs. Weasley," which made Molly smile at him, and Remus and Sirius to exchange a look, silently stating that she's going to recieve a painful surprise.

Indeed, Harry didn't turn around and walk out of the kitchen. Instead, he sat on one of the seats near Molly, and took out a newspaper he was just reading. A muggle one, since there wasn't much in the Daily Prophet about what he wanted to show.

"Then could you help me decide what I should be doing instead?" he asked, turning a page. "Maybe a little bit of music?" he proposed while looking through a story describing of a 'lasers malfunctioning' at a concert, which resulted in many hurt, as the panicked crowd was struggling towards the exit.

"How about a movie?" he asked, turning another page, this time showing a story of a theatre being burnt down over a 'spontaneous combustion' that even weeks after the event left the fire-fighter's forensic team puzzled over what could have caused it. Dozens were hospitalized.

"Maybe a visit to the theme park?" he turned a page one last time, making a big picture of a wreckage of twisted metal come into view. It seemed that a newly built roller-coaster gave out on it's grand opening, but no one could even start pointing to what might have gone wrong. Hundreds were killed because of it.

With every innocent question, Molly Weasley whimpered and squirmed more in her seat.

Harry wasn't being mean because he had been treated like a little kid. As much he understood parental need to protect the children, the form the Weasley matron was doing it was simply absurd. If she would like to protect everyone by holding them away from anything harmful, it would mean that everyone's life would end up being a prison. Even not that, since food couldn't be allowed, because of the fear of food poisoning. Walls could easily collapse...

Simply said, there could be nothing from life in life, since every single thing could be either harmful, or beneficial. A little whisky in front of a fireplace after a day of hard work, drunk with little sips to help you savour the flavour enriches the day, allowing you to give that satisfied sigh that all is well in life. Getting dead drunk with cheapest liquor you can get your hands on... It's hard to think what good that could accomplish.

Like it happens with life, saying that something is prohibited only makes people wonder and curiosity brings them only to doing it in the end. That's why parents shouldn't constantly remind children to not do this or that, but instead be there to make sure that whatever children do would stay beneficial.

But that couldn't be achieved with limited information. True, some things should be learned later than earlier, but people will go exploring on their own, unless they are made sure that 'later' is really in their best interest, and not just someone else's whim.

Harry couldn't say if there ever was an occasion when "knowing more" did harm to anyone, but it seemed that making desperate decisions while not knowing enough was more common reason for things ending so horribly wrong.

All of that was also the reason that Harry thought that in the way he was now, he wouldn't be the best parent. When his kid would tell him that he didn't want to wear a scarf, hat or gloves, he wouldn't argue. Instead, he would do something like:

"No? Okay. Then let me just show you some pictures instead. You ever saw how a frost-bite can go wrong? And here's right before they decided amputation was needed..."

Harsh? Traumatizing? Yes, and so much more. But it beats the crap out of simple "It's for your own good" line.

Truth always does so much more than an evasive answer. It's the difference in how you deliver it that once again decides if it's beneficial, or harmful. And as stated before, not delivering it at all is obviously more harmful than not.

"I understand your worry, Molly," Albus said, wanting to get started with the proper meeting. "But I too agree that Harry should be a part of this meeting," he smiled apologetically at the woman.

"And if you still doubt that Harry can handle it, just look at all the things he went through so far," Sirius added.

A murmur went through the room, since everyone remembered the story of him getting unscratched out of the meeting with the Dark Lord and his whole Inner Circle. After that reminder, no one as much as peeped that Harry should be anywhere else.

"Now that it seems that everyone is present, why don't we start the meeting?" Dumbledore proposed, "And to have something sweat after this sour start – candy anyone?" he asked with his grandfatherly smile, taking a bag out of his robes.

Snape shuddered at the image, being spotted only by Harry who was sure to look towards the dark corner the Potions Master was standing in when he caught on to what Headmaster was about to do.

"Now, Severus," Albus turned to once again collected man, "As you probably have the best look on the situation, please, share with us what is happening in the Death Eaters ranks,"

"There is steady income of new recruits from all around the country, and even from outside. More Hideouts had to be established, but due to everyone wanting to present their troops themselves, only those who brought someone new know themselves where they are kept," Snape said it in his usual, monotone, up to the point tone.

"Yes..." Dumbledore murmured, stroking his beard, "And what with Voldemort himself?"

Even here, among people that were meant to battle the Dark Lord, there were many who shuddered at the name. Someone even went as far as:

"Albus, why do you keep using that name?" could be heard from the back of the room.

That only made Harry laugh. Everyone looked at him strangely at his sudden outburst.

"I'm sorry," he said, not looking at it, and still fighting his laughter. "I'm sure Headmaster here would say something profound like: fearing the name only increases the fear of the person. But I would like to point something obvious instead," he stated, making everyone exchange glances what it was all about, while Sirius and Remus looked delighted that Harry was causing mayhem, and they were there to watch it, instead simply hearing stories. It just proved that no matter how they tried, they would never change.

"I mean, who gives their child Voldemort as a name? And what exactly is his last name?"

Some people still shuddered, but most was too baffled by the stupidity of that question to notice.

"What I'm trying to show here is that you think of even newer names for a person that already changed it himself. You can check if you like, but I wasn't able to find a single reference to a Voldemort being born into magical community," the way he said the last part left no place for doubt, and everyone was sure that he really checked.

"No matter how you call him, You-know-who, Dark Lord... It's still the same guy you're talking about, and you really have to be wrong in the head to think that renaming Tuesday to After-Monday changes anything about the day," he sated, and started laughing again, "And I seriously would like to know the guy who _named_ him He-who-must-_not_-be-named..." he finished, still chuckling.

People gathered took all of the strange monologue in, thought of all the different names that were in use, reminded themselves of only couple of times when they used one of those themselves, and...

There was a massive shudder that went through the room, even without anyone saying anything.

"Yes..." Dumbledore spoke again, trying to get the conversation back on track, "But Severus is yet to tell us what Voldemort is up to, spending all this time on his own. Has he even gathered his Death Eaters lately?"

The man was surprised at being called out so suddenly, and wasn't exactly sure how far he should go into explaining the current situation.

"Yes, he had called his Inner Circle... On many occasions in fact..." he started.

"Oh? And what happened?" Albus pressed, wanting to know as much as he could.

"Well..." Severus swallowed, not knowing how to describe it.

* * *

It was the first time the Dark Lord called his Death Eaters to him, since the moment of his resurrection. Everyone waited, stiff from anxiety, fearing what this could be about.

Voldemort was walking around the room, looking at the person he was passing. His strides were long and powerful, his figure mighty and towering over all of them. It seemed that he was once again to normal.

"Lucius," Dark Lord stopped in front of the man, "What have you done lately?"

"I've been pressing the Wizengamot to pass some laws to further our goal, my Lord," the man replied with a bow, thinking that he could become even closer to who was about to become the most powerful man in the world.

"Hmmm..." Voldemort stood there, considering things, "Have a candy then," he finally said, bringing a large bag from inside of his robes.

"My Lord?" Lucius asked automatically, out of shock at the turn in the conversation.

"You can have one, but no more," Dark Lord stated in such a way that made it clear there was no avoiding it.

Lucius tentatively reached into the bag, and grabbed one of the many types of candy. That clearly wasn't enough, as Voldemort still stood there, watching him expectantly. He unwrapped the candy with a gratefull look, and stuffed it into his mouth. Voldemort moved on only after he was sure Lucius swallowed it.

He made rounds around the room, and asking the same question. No matter what was the answer, it ended with everyone being offered a candy. And Death Eaters tried every kind of excuse or an answer to get out of the deal. Especially seeing as the person offered candy before had it's upper body changed into a canary, or their tongues were growing unstoppably, or when a person appeared to be bleeding from every orifice in their body, without there being the end of it.

Quickly, Death Eaters started to miss the times when a _simple_ Cruciatus was the punishment. After a while, your body partly got used to the exposure, and you could even look dignified, standing straight after being punished. But it wasn't possible to have your honour intact when you tap-danced, or even skipped out of the room.

That was partly the reason why Death Eaters thought even further places in the world were the best places for recruitment...

* * *

"Dark Lord seems to be working on something, but no one knows what exactly it is, and calls people in only to ask about their progress," Snape gave the safe answer, and sighed when Albus moved on with the meeting.

Harry on the other hand seemed to be immensely enjoying that answer, and threw a quick glance towards the Weasley Twins. In the end, he wouldn't have to answer their questions how their unfinished products found their way to Dark Lord's hands.

He still couldn't look back at the situation with a straight face, the one when Nessie told him she heard that _voices_ made people only do bad, violent things. Then she proposed that she would correct that by making Voldemort do something nice. Of course, she wouldn't listen to him while he tried to explain that those weren't regular candy she made him give away, but rather untested products that malfunctioned more often than not, resulting in random complications. Then he noticed that only Death Eaters received them... In the end, he couldn't decide himself if that was or wasn't a nice thing that she was doing.

Because, well, as far as the truth went, sometimes truly, ignorance is bliss. Since if you keep on digging, your mental stability could be at stake.

* * *

AN. Once again, scenes just keep on getting longer and longer. Still, I have some more things to write. As much as I can tell a story, I'm not good with little things, so, once again, below is a compilation of small things I forgot about earlier.

* * *

Scene 1 – Around the time Harry arrived at the Headquaters for the first time

* * *

From all the people that kept appearing in the house, Harry found the young, pink haired auror the most interesting one. Well, at least that trait that allowed her to be pink, red, brown, blonde or green haired auror in span of seconds. Simply said, he had never before seen a metamorphmagus.

'What is different in her, allowing her to do the things she can do?' was Harry's main question while he pondered upon the ability.

'In my times there were people like that too, and others asked themselves the same question,' Slytherin's voice reached him. He seemed to be the person who always appeared whenever Harry had a problem nowadays. 'But what we didn't have back them was your modern knowledge of biology,'

Biology. Seemingly the things she did were impossible. Changing your facial features. Growing or becoming shorter in the span of minutes... Minutes. Harry stopped at that. People grow over time, and their faces change as they become adults. If you limit her abilities to that, time was the only difference. Of course, then you would have to add the fact that she can fit into multiple forms, but that...

Harry's eyes widened, because it was so simple.

'It's like the difference between water and ice,' the answer formed in his mind.

'Precisely,' Salazar agreed, 'A skilled wizard can grow their hair longer, give themselves a tan, or even help his mending bones. But it isn't any amazing skill, just a great control over their bodies, since all of those are natural things. The thing is to speed up the rate they are done at. But even if you speed it up, it's nothing more than adding some snow on an ice sculpture for decoration,'

'But she, with her ability, can do that in span of seconds. And not only that, but so much more,' Harry thought, baffled by the possibilities, 'She can break down her entire body to it's simplest elements, and then build it right back,'

'Really?' Slytherin asked in that mocking tone.

'Alright. _Theoretically_ she can do that. In practice there's always a price to that kind of change,'

Even in transfiguration you couldn't produce more, than you had mass of matter you wanted to transfigure. Even conjuration wasn't exception to that, since, even while "producing something out of thin air" was essentially true, air wasn't as empty as it seemed to be.

There is constantly something all around. Dust, germs, various vapours... Everything as small as not to be seen seems to be easy to forget about. But it was still there, and conjuration gathered it all together, transfiguring the mass that gathered up into an intended item. That's why it was so hard, and power dependant part of transfiguration.

To make something "out of nothing" was hard enough, but to make it stay there for long periods of time demanded massive amounts of energy to keep all the junk that the item was composed of together. Overpowering the spell resulted in the thing staying there permanently, true, but only after you changed the base elements that the initial matter was made of, into exactly what the end product was composed off.

In the same way, Tonks couldn't break down her body completely, as when she would do that, she would be no longer there, per se, and without a working brain, and a body able to sustain it, there was no way that she could piece it all back together. But that was just a thought.

On the other hand, on the more practical level, she couldn't so suddenly become a giant. She could make herself appear that way, but the most of the new, gigantic body, would have to be air, or her tissues would have to be seriously thinned out, as there was no way her normal body could hold as much matter to compensate for the new volume of her body.

No matter what she did with her body, the weight would always stay the same.

* * *

Scene 2

* * *

It was a gloomy Sunday outside, so Harry decided to make some use of the ever shining sun in Magie's domain. While laying there, relaxing in the soft breeze that did a good job at reducing the heat from the noon sun, he reminded himself of something.

"I guess you should know better than me," he called, stopping Magie in her attempts to catch a butterfly floating nearby with her net, "Where is that little cat... you know, Trippy? I haven't seen it at your place..."

"Oh, it didn't like my house, since there's nothing to do, so it moved to Salazar's, since there's a lot things to hunt there," Magie replied with a shrug, and continued to chase the butterfly.

"I guess that's what you would expect from a marsh," Harry said with a yawn, not thinking about it again.

* * *

"OUT!" roared the usually collected Slytherin, "I said OUT! GET! OUT!" he kept screaming while chasing the little furball. Problem was that the cat had it's name for a reason, and if not Slytherin himself, some of his possessions would land on the floor as the chase continued.

He had to find some solution to this thing, because on one hand, he had to remodel his little home every other day as he chased the cat away. If not that, if he left the cat alone, soon enough he had piles of dead frogs, rats, lizards and pretty much everything else rotting in every part of his home.

He often wondered, where this pest had come from in the first place...

* * *

Scene 3

* * *

"You know, Luna," Harry started when they were reading in the library on one evening, "I know that it's her job to be inconspicuous, but I haven't seen our little, fluffy post-elephant for quite some time now,"

"Oh, that's because she's no longer in the castle," Luna replied like he shouldn't be worrying about it.

"Well, then were is she?" he still asked, interested what happened to her.

"It was during one of the breaks when we were at home, and she heard that daddy is going to look for some unregistered species. She immediately decided to go with him, since she didn't though of staying in the school as stimulating enough for her," Luna explained with a shrug.

Harry blinked owlishly, "She said so to you?"

"Well... I wouldn't call it saying..."

* * *

Somewhere deep in the jungle, Xenophilius Lovegood was setting up camp with some of his friends, all of whom contributed to Quibbler.

"Listen," one of them caught his attention, "I don't really know what to say, but is that thing alright?" he asked, pointing to Sezie who seemed to be spazming, being all over the place in all kinds of strange twitches.

"I saw her do it on couple of occasions before, and I still don't know what it is. I've asked others, and one of our muggle-born friends told me that at moments it seemed like belly-dancing, others simple pantomime, break-dancing, or even something called electro. But I still don't know why she does that," Xenophilius said with a shrug, and not sparing another glance, continued preparing the camp.

Seizie on the other hand was just finishing her story:

_... and then he said: I think that elephant thing is staring at me._

She stopped, watching the reaction. The animal hidden in the bushes in front of her, the very animal the group was tracking for the last week, blinked at the strange thing in front of it, wondering why it did all those funny things. As much as it didn't understand the meaning, it was quite funny to watch.

Seizie shook her small head seeing that the animal didn't get it.

_Let me try that again. We were packing things up in our home, when these new people that didn't know me came in and I decided to have some fun..._

She started, weaving the story of how they got there, and why they were there in the first place, thinking that she could convince the animal to show itself on it's own. Problem was that she did it in the strangest sign language the world ever knew. Or... _didn't_ knew, to be precise...


	72. Chapter 72

You know, it's not even about me not liking the idea of being rich and famous like J. K. Rowling. It's just that I like who I am, and I don't see how my life could be better if I pretended to be someone else.

* * *

Harry sat through the rest of the proceedings, and at the end of it all, he had to say that he truly didn't understand it. As a matter of fact, he didn't knew why others didn't see how pointless Order of the Phoenix was.

He couldn't say in what form it was created first, but as it was now, Order wasn't even a militia. It was closer to a neighbourhood watch, where citizens actively report any disturbing events without being involved in solving the problem. That in itself was good. In fact, that was exactly what Harry would like to see more. People taking responsibility not only for themselves, but also for the community they are living in. Not putting even greater walls to prevent an intrusion, but being there in the open, constantly asking "What can _we_ do to make this place better...". Because, it was proven long time ago that in a perfect system, a person wouldn't do what's best only for them, but for them_ and_ the community the live in at the same time.

Like always, that thought could do much good, but if done in wrong proportions, it could be a hindrance in itself. That's why he, personally, limited himself to only stopping people who thought they could do anything they wanted from doing just that. Like Snape in his first year, Lockhart, or now, Umbridge... Other than that, he was happy to leave people to make their own mistakes. Heck, he still had his own pile of troubles to get through. But without that external, negative influence, it was heck of a lot easier to concentrate on your own life.

That's why Order was based on good assumption. That everyone have, or should have their part in making the world a better place, or at least keeping that it stays that way. But the thing that bugged Harry was that it stopped halfway.

Sure, with a massive information income, since, counting in every member, all parts of wizarding community were covered by the information network, it didn't do much good if those informations weren't passed on. And, in fact, they weren't.

Albus Dumbledore seemed to think that gathering information was enough. In essence, he simply wanted to give people something to do. His basic mistake was to make that work futile. True that authorities, or even simply Auror squads, weren't perfect in their own right. But having more, or simply more precise informations would certainly make them more effective. Because, at that point, they probably didn't even have quarter of the news that Order brought in at every meeting.

Quarter? Seeing as Aurors were reporting to Dumbledore, and they were only few among the many in the ranks of the Order, it couldn't even be that much.

But as it was, the informations gathered hastily were left aside to the point where they outdated, and thus, useless. And as much as people cursed Snape for not giving them anything useful, Harry could clearly see that Headmaster being the perfect pacifist, not wanting for anyone to get hurt, even if it was a Death Eater, was the main reason for Order never taking any action.

But Harry couldn't even openly state as much. If he would, people would look at him like he was crazy, or snap at him, pointing how stupid he was for saying something like that. They were doing what they did for a very long time, and in their minds, it had purpose and was worth continuing. If anyone would like to talk with them openly, they would need to get those mental blinds off of their eyes, and only then rational arguments could be brought in, stating that as hard they work, it doesn't exactly lead anywhere, does it?

* * *

Enjoying the free time after Christmas, Harry was caught by surprise when on one day someone announced that Headmaster was waiting in the kitchen, wanting to discus something with him.

"You wanted to speak with me, Professor?" he asked after the short walk downstairs.

"Yes, Harry," the old wizards replied with a smile, "Please have a seat,"

Harry did so, noticing that they were the only two people in the room.

"I have to say that I allowed you into that meeting not only because you had right to be there, but also because of another set of reasons," Albus started, "And I have to say that I'm very proud of the person you have grown to be. Unlike most people your age, you don't simply jump into action, but consider every aspect of the topic placed in front of you. As much as I would like to say so, throughout that meeting I lost the last bits of doubt that you aren't mature enough yet," he stated, sitting there and gazing at Harry over his half-moon spectacles, clearly, even then watching for any sign stating that he shouldn't be doing this.

"Because there are serious matters we must discuss, Harry," he stated with a sigh, seeing nothing worrying in the boy, "But before we can do that, you must learn how to protect your mind, so that the information I'm about to share with you stays safe," he said, staring at Harry with gaze that left no doubt that this was a matter of grave importance. "Occlumency is the art of clouding your mind and concealing your thoughts that you will be learning. I, myself, am too busy right now, so you will be having those lessons with Professor Snape instead, as he is skilled in the art," Dumbledore finished the sentence in the moment when his watch started giving off weird noises, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have important matters to attend to," he stated, and hurried towards the fireplace.

Harry, throughout all of the conversation, if you call it like that, haven't said a word. Because all this time, he was doing what he did whenever situation of that kind arose. Thinking. He was thinking about what could be the important issue Dumbledore wanted to talk with him about. Or why only with him? But most of all, he was wondering:

"What exactly is Occlumency? he sighed, even deep in the night thinking about it. It was fortunate he had Magie's world at his disposal, as a safe place he could always go to and think in peace. Especially when there was a clear sky, and he could observe all the stars while he relaxed on the grassy hill near her house.

"You know more of it than you think you do," a voice reached him, and he didn't even need to look to know that it was Slytherin.

He closed his eyes and pondered it for a while, letting every scarce information on the topic pass through his head.

"Let us walk," Salazar said before Harry could reply to his previous statement, and headed first before Harry even started to stand up.

"Occlumency is yet another example just how unimaginative modern wizards can be, thinking that is only an art of protecting your mind," he said with a shake of his head, once Harry caught up to him, "Limiting such a great tool to it's side effect only," he sighed tiredly.

"Now, tell me, how did we end up here?" he asked, stopping out of a sudden.

Harry blinked, looking around one of the many streets of the city in his head.

"We walked here," he stated, like it was the most obvious thing.

"Oh?" Slytherin only commented, turning to the hill that was still visible between the high buildings . "And we covered that distance in just couple of minutes by walking?" he asked, leaving Harry frowning in thought, as he once again moved ahead.

When Harry once again caught up to him, they walked in silence, Harry still wondering what was going on. Well, only to the moment when, a minute or so later, Slytherin sat down on a bench, and Harry blinked when he noticed that they were once again near Magie's home.

"Tell me again, where exactly are we?" Slytherin asked.

The first answer Harry would give would be "near Magie's house"... But he couldn't say that. Not after Salazar asked in that way when he was fiding the whole conversation amusing. But not over some kind of joke, but over the fact that it was so stupid to have it in the first place. Of course, it was always Harry that did all those stupid things, forgetting about a crucial detail he should have kept in _mind_...

He slapped a hand over his eyes, groaning about just how stupid the answer was.

"Took you long enough," Slytherin said with a laugh, "Just don't start thinking if this whole thing is real or not, because that is the reason why you were feeling so strangely, so out of place, just moments ago. To answer it nevertheless, the best answer that anyone could ever give is that it's both, and neither at the same time. But that's just the side effect of Occlumency I mentioned earlier,"

Harry settled on the bench, already knowing that it will be yet another lecture from the Founder.

"You, with your city, Hermione with her library, Neville with his greenhouse, Luna with her zoo, and Rose with her comicbook shop. All those places have one crucial thing in common – they are representations of the real world, but translated to the form that understanding comes easiest to the person who built them. _That_ is the main purpose of Occlumency. That's also why the name is derived from "to conceal". To remind you that not the form, but the essence is always the most important thing." he said, gazing at the city stretching out in front of them.

"But building something like this takes years upon years, and I guess that's the reason why people concentrate only on the trait that is easiest to gain. The defence of the mind. Normally it's only based on stopping entry, or redirecting it to the part of your mind you have no problem showing," Slytherin shook his head again, "Such an unimaginative thing to do. Because, only with a properly shaped mind scape like your own," he said, turning to Harry with a wicked smile, "Well, that's where the fun begins."

"Earlier I asked how exactly had we moved from one part of this picture to the next. You couldn't find a rational answer, because there isn't one, as long you keep thinking that you moved at all. That's where the side effect of forming your own world kicks in, because, as much a dream can be called an experience, the world you see there doesn't have width or length. Things don't weight anything... Aside for how much you make them weight, or how far you think one thing is from the other."

"You, moving around this town don't move at all. You just make yourself be in the place you want to be in, while your subconsciousness fills the gaps with things you know, as to keep it in the form that is acceptable to your conciousness. That's also why you haven't been able to exactly point just how fast time runs in this place. Essential things you do happen at their own pace, but the pictures that you remember are another thing altogether."

"You are able to do all those things without being concious about it because this world is created on the assumption that it should be convenient. But only to you. Why I call the defensive part of it all _only_ a side effect is the reason that anyone else that would come here, would do the same things you do, assuming distances or weight of particular items they encounter. The problem with this is the fact that their subconsciousness wouldn't add that element that, in the end, all of this is unreal,"

"You don't mean..." Harry whispered, too engrossed in the story to speak earlier.

"Oh, yes I do," Salazar smiled and watched all the buildings appreciatively once again. "A city with thousands of buildings, millions of places... And anyone who would like to steal anything from here would walk all around it, open all the doors or search every place just like they would in the real world. Trust me, I talk from experience about just how painful that can be, since when I first got here, I was still thinking like myself. As I am now, I guess I'm more part of you than I am still myself," he said with a shrug.

"But still, think about the joke in all of this. Even if they would search through it all, they still wouldn't find anything, because the people living in this city are really what they are looking for, even without them knowing that. That's why Occlumency is such a great defence, even without it's primary purpose being that. You know that a particular person is just the one you want to talk to... Or even your friends, with only one passage in a book from a vast selection of particular section, or one picture in entire comic book. Not saying anything about having to deal with poisonous plants or hives of angry animals... All those things that are so obvious to you, to your mind, would be an infinite puzzle to anyone else if he would be there to see it."

* * *

After everything that Slythering told him, Harry couldn't wait for his first Occlumency lesson. He awaited if nearly just as much as the Potions Professor himself.

At last, there was the chance to repay the damned Potter for all he had done to him thus far. Having the brat in his own mercies was all that he could ever wish for as a Christmas present.

When the boy finally arrived in his classroom, he gave him a quick description of what they were aiming to achieve. It wasn't like that kid could understand the full weight of the magic, now could he?

Then, when it was at last time to begin, he decided to test how Potter would do without any instructions. Well, if anyone would ask why he was so harsh on the first try, he might just rationalize it like that.

"Legilimens!" he said the words, feeling the rush of magic as it took effect.

Oh, how he couldn't wait to bring forth the brats worst nightmares... Just a little moment to wait before he had his fun... Wait...

Why exactly was he waiting? He thought, blinking owlishly as he swept his gaze across the room he found himself in. It was no longer the classroom in the dungeons. Instead, it was a room basked in a soft glow coming from the sun trying to make its way through the blinds that were closed shut.

In the limited light, he could make out a brown wallpaper, with a leaf motive done in a lighter shade. Strangely, it went very well with the carpet that laid on the floor made of wood.

Severus shook his head at the strange thought, and continued his inspection, spotting a couch made of leather, very similar in style to the armchair he was currently sitting in. He glanced on the glass table beside himself, on top of which laid pile of magazines. Moments later, he jumped to his feet with a snarl, noticing that all of those were beauty magazines, and every one of them was promoting haircare products.

Only now Snape turned to a another wall, noticing a big counter, with doors to the side. Problem was that the counter was shut, with "Back in fifteen minutes" sign visible on it. As strange as it was, it seemed that somehow he found himself in a waiting room of sorts, but the whole scene was too surreal to be true.

Especially with that music coming from old-school speakers, played seemingly on a gramophone that got stuck, since the line "Where is my mind? Where is my mind...?" just kept playing on and on in a loop.

Then he returned to that original thought. Why exactly was he there? He was waiting on someone? Who then? Then he remembered, and:

"POTTER!" he yelled, angry because it seemed that once again he had been had.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked, coming from the doors beside the counter, revealing a small office further in, where what seemed to be lunch going on, since two kids, twins as it seemed, were eating their food, with Potter having his sandwich with him.

"You!" Snape seethed, gazing at the raven-haired boy angrily.

"Well, if you don't like it here, you can always leave," Harry said conversationally, pointing behind Potions Master, and closing the doors with a shrug, leaving to finish the meal the fifteen minute break entitled him to.

Severus whipped around, and stood stock still, gaping at a big neon light stating EXIT, flashing from time to time as it hung above the door. After he shook his head to clear it off, he went straight to it, and after he turned the knob, he was basked in a light so bright, that he had to close his eyes...

When he opened his eyes again, he was once again in the dungeon, with Potter staring at him strangely.

"Is everything alright, Professor?" Harry asked, watching as the gaze of the Potions Master strangely drifted around the room.

Hearing the voice, Severus concentrated on the boy once again, and trying to look at least a little bit collected after something like that, which he never experienced before, he asked:

"Potter," he snarled, happy that it sounded like his usual self, "What the bloody hell was that?"

"Well, sir, you told me to protect my mind. But, honestly, I wasn't sure I was ready, so I thought of a place to let you wait before I finished my preparations. I hope I haven't kept you bored, sir. I guess reading materials weren't exactly to your liking. Is that it, sir?" Harry asked, concerned.

Snape shuddered even at the slight reference. But even that involuntary action made him snap back harder.

"Oh, so you think this is really funny, don't you? That I am here to entertain you? LEGILIMENS!" he shouted not giving the brat even a second to prepare this time.

Oh, how will he show the impudent kid. He will teach him his place.

That were the thoughts filling Severus' mind, as he was waiting for the rush of magic to subside, so he could begin his search for the most humiliating memories in brat's memory. Of course, that was only to the moment when he noticed that it wasn't magic rushing past him, and all those swirly colours weren't exactly memories.

He looked a little closer, finally taking notice on what exactly he was sitting. He blinked stupidly, unable to tear his gaze from the little pink elephant he was sitting on. It was so much more hard to perceive just why he haven't noticed it before, since the elephant was so small that, even with his feet on the footrests, he had his knees near his chest.

It seemed that he wasn't the only one having a ride, as he could clearly hear laughter behind him. He turned as much as he could, and received another shock, when he noticed Potter and those two kids from before right behind him, sitting on a stag, black dog, and a wolf, each even smaller than his little pink elephant.

"Now, this is entertaining, Professor," Harry shouted with a laugh and a wave of his hand when he saw that Snape noticed them.

So, there he was, Professor Severus Snape, Potions Master in the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, having a ride on a children sized carousel on his little, pink elephant, with his cloak billowing behind him as he did circles on the merry-go-round that stood in the middle of a theme park, with people having a grand time all around him.

From all the excitement that that thought gave him, the man simply blacked out.

* * *

Some time in the future, there would be a start to something that later would become a drinking, party, puzzle game, roughly named "Why won't Potions Master's cloak billow as much as it used to?"

But that was in the future, and right now Harry was walking back to the Griffindor tower, whistling a tune that left people that heard it thinking about riding in circles. He, himself, on the other hand, thought:

'Well kids, it was fun. Thanks for the entertainment park Odis. And Desi, nice touch on the carousel.' he said, smiling at the thought of the ride.

'No problem Harry,' said Odis.

'We should do this more often,' added Desi.

'Bye Harry.' they said together, right before they skipped round the corner, and back to his mind.

Thinking about it, he probably couldn't have chosen better if it came to disrupting anyones attempts to simply wander his mind.

* * *

AN. I know, a little short, I think so too. But I think that it's good enough as it is to think about it as a chapter of it's own, and it wouldn't gain anything from me adding more scenes to it. I don't know if I will be able to, but I will try to write another chapter, but if it's not up until Monday, then it will like always be somewhere around the weekend.


	73. Chapter 73

I'm not J. K. Rowling. If you're still wondering, I have a phonebook with me, and can tell you exactly who else I'm not... Not interested? Pity.

* * *

After that first Occlumency lesson started a rather peculiar period in Snape's life.

On one hand, he couldn't admit to Dumbledore that that snot of a boy had done the unthinkable and managed to create a perfect defence mechanism from any mind attacks just by daydreaming during Potions. On the other, he really didn't want to deal with that pest again...

So, from one thing to another, Harry would find himself called to Potion Master's office for another round of Occlumency "lessons", after which the aforementioned Professor would refuse to as much as admit that any student named Potter existed, until such a time that he calmed enough to devise another strategy to beat the brat's defences.

During it all, Harry wondered if he shouldn't simply tell the man that he was, in fact, able to get himself right in the centre of the mind he tried to enter, but left before he even as much as had a thought of beginning the search for any vital information.

Well, that were his thoughts until another problem appeared out of nowhere.

* * *

**Mass Breakout From Azkaban**

That was the title that screamed in bold from every front page of the Daily Prophet. But as much as Harry stared at it, he still couldn't believe what he was seeing.

His disbelief wasn't caused by the consensus that such a thing was impossible. Clearly, it was possible. His godfather proved it before. In fact, if there is a prison to which a road leads by which new prisoners are brought in, it's also a prison from which an escape route leads out. The only troublesome thing is to use it effectively.

But how they did it wasn't exactly Harry's main concern. His head was filled with possible answers to _why_ they did it. Because, why would a group of hardcore individualists, who would never trust another human being, group up to free even more people of that type. With so many small groups working separately for so long, what could be the grand goal that could make them work together?

It couldn't be because Death Eaters needed even more people in their ranks. For one, from what Snape relayed, there was steady income of new recruits. Secondly, it wasn't recruits that had been freed, but members of the Inner Circle that could only do what everybody else was doing – heading out and starting to gather things they could present to their Lord. For an instance Harry played with the idea that maybe it was an insurance, that even if Voldemort wouldn't like what people did thus far, there would still be "others" who did even less in his name. But that was far fetched, and a little too vague of a reason to argument so much trouble.

Then, was it for the gold those ten escaped convicts possessed in their vaults? It wouldn't be any good as long as they stayed on the run. Because, even if goblins weren't that fond of the magical government, they hated more people who brought trouble to the doorsteps of, not only their business, but their home above everything else. That's why a guard always maintained vigil near the entrance, and anyone who was clearly a disaster to happen would be denied access to the bank, and left standing there in the middle of Diagon Alley for all to see.

It couldn't even be called a part of the training for the new recruits, designed to throw them into real battle and wheat out the weak ones. The article didn't mention a word about any kind of spell damage, destruction or deaths. If something like _that_ happened, especially the last one, there was no way the papers wouldn't have a field day if the authorities would fail to mention it – something Fudge couldn't allow himself at this point. So, either they didn't tell about it, which wasn't likely, they don't know about anything like that, which was even less so... Or there wasn't any. But if that's the case, then it was a stealthy operation. Not something you would expect from a group of terrorists wanting nothing else but to wreak havoc and destruction that would immediately shout "We did it!" to let everyone know if something like that happened. If they want to keep it quiet...

Harry blinked. He gazed at the paper lying in front of him and blinked again. Because just like that, he stopped thinking of why anyone would like to make a silent entrance and retrieve a limited number of convicts from the prison, and started thinking of why anyone would like to make a silent entrance... and why a mass breakout does such a great job at being the cover story.

In his daze, he turned to look at the Head Table, and didn't have to look long before he saw that Dumbledore reached the same conclusion he had.

With a silent nod on both parts, they agreed that from no on, it was in everyone's best interest to know the Patronus Charm.

* * *

Dolores Umbridge was quick to react to the trouble that was about to overwhelm the school, and that's why she posted another of her Educational Decrees, this being the number two-hundred and twenty-three:

_Teachers are hereby banned from giving students any information that is not strictly related to the subjects they are paid to teach_

Obviously, she haven't exactly thought out the definition of a teacher. The Professors of Hogwart haven't done anything more than point the better books from the library – something they did quite often lately. But since the decree clearly indicated a teacher who was paid and contracted for particular subject, the older students of Hogwarts felt free to teach their younger peers anything those had problems with.

Imagine her surprise when one morning, Dolores woke up wearing nothing but black. And not fine robes she was used to wear but rags. Then, for the rest of the day, one animal after another chased her from one side of the school to the other, making her feel like a whole zoo of Silver-whisp had escaped just to torment her.

If anyone at that point had problems with their Patronus, the look on her face as she ran by – on multiple occasions – instantly helped to move things along.

After that day, Umbridge went on a rampage, and with her vision clouded so much as to make re only able to focus on one thing at a time, she blindly followed what she was doing so far, simply banning whatever was in front of her.

Then, someone took a leaf out of Harry's book, tweaked his idea a little, and sent a word for everyone to be ready, since there was no chance to guess who will be the one to execute it.

Harry wasn't there when it happened for the first time, but the story goes that...

* * *

It was awfully quiet on the Hogwarts grounds,  
what with the silence so shrill.  
Dolores wandered around, she did many rounds,  
looking for life, trying to detect any sounds,  
but even the paintings were eerily still.

She huffed and puffed at every turn,  
filling empty rooms with a clatter.  
She stormed and raged and her eyes did burn,  
as she attempted to whole school upturn,  
but there was no one to see it for that matter.

She checked most places, the Great hall and classrooms,  
still without anyone in sight.  
She was on edge, from her head came fumes,  
and it seemed that a disaster looms,  
as she was about to ignite.

Then an idea came to her head,  
"Dormitories, that's where I'll check."  
So she did just that, following that thread,  
and found students simply lying in bed,  
and it almost turned her into a wreck...

* * *

Harry shook his head, not having a clue why he was getting the story from Twins right after they perfected their Rhyming-raisins. He walked past them without a word and headed to where his friends were sitting.

"Okay, can I get the full story already?" he asked with a tired sigh, dropping into an armchair.

"What do you know so far?" Hermione replied, setting her book aside.

"Twins got me to where she entered the dormitory," Harry managed to say through a yawn, rubbing his eyes.

"Twins... they..." she tried to ask, watching the two strut around the common room in what could only be Elizabethan clothing. "Never mind," she said in the end, changing her mind, and shaking her head to clear it off of thoughts of just how the conversation looked like.

"But what really happened is basically the same thing that was planned," Neville took over, seeing that Hermione's mind wasn't exactly set on the current topic, "That first dorm-room Umbridge got to supposedly complained how they can't do anything without explicit permission from the teacher, as is stated in decree number eighty-three. You know, something as simple as get out of bed, get dressed, tie their shoes... things like that. When she started sputtering and trying to tell them what to do... or was it how the law worked? I guess we'll never know, since, as planned, they interrupted her, stating that they didn't want her get into trouble by _giving students information that is not strictly related to the subject she is paid for_." Neville finished, citing the last part which every student in Hogwarts knew by heart.

It was true, and more of those kind of things happened throughout that initial day. Wherever Umbridge would go, students threw one of her own rules at her, but interpreted in a way that made it impossible to do one of the vital things in life. Supposedly, at one point, she literally pulled out a tuft of her own hair.

The trouble with the plan that at first sight might have been perfect, was that the whole population of Hogwart was suddenly locked for long periods of time in a tightly packed place. With so many things happening all around up to this point, well, simply said, everyone begun to get a _little_ bored, after which came the moment where people got _a lot_ more creative – to think that Twins' raisins was only the beginning...

"Ah, how nice of Umbridge to state at the very beginning that decrees posted by the High Inquisitor overrule Hogwarts rules," Harry said while stretching and getting more comfortable in his armchair.

"I just can't understand why she won't simply tell that as a High Inquisitor she's paid to tell us what to do," Neville stated with a shrug.

"She can't do that, Neville," Hermione replied immediately, "That position was created only to ensure that regulations brought in by the Ministry are followed, so she can't do much but to follow the rules or post new ones..." she said with a smile, because Dolores did just that, with rules reaching a whooping number three-hundred and thirty-seven in a really short span. "And besides, it's not the position of High Inquisitor that is inhibited by the rules, but her teacher post. So, the only way she could get free of her own rules, would be to quit her teaching position. But then, seeing as High Inquisitor is a _teacher_ chosen for that position, she would loose that as well, and Ministry would have to send someone else over... That in turn would result only in that person having to deal with the mess of rules, before anything else." Hermione finished, then shrugged and summed it up with, "Basically, she can't do anything now."

"That's why I don't deal with _rules_," Harry spoke from his armchair, looking more ready to go to sleep than to have a serious conversation. "Guidelines work so much better."

"How so?" Neville and Hermione in the same moment.

"Well, let's say that there is a guideline stating that destructive behaviour is prohibited," Harry started, like always, with an example. "Lets say that a building is destroyed. If it's by a bomb, it's bad. But if it's controlled demolition to make space for more and better houses, then the destruction is only a part of something bigger. Something which by the end will be called creative behaviour. So, it's good. Given that, the guideline doesn't prohibit any and all forms of destruction, only the destruction for the sake of destruction, which brings nothing else to it."

"Now, if you would have a rule stating that destructive behaviour is prohibited, then you woudl need to write a whole set of rules naming the exceptions to the first rules. But then, since loopholes are so common, you need even more rules to regulate those exceptions. But of course there can be an occasion when you would need to overlure those initial rules, so you have to have even more exceptions, and a whole lot more rules to control them. The point I'm trying to make here is as much people state that guidelines could be too vague, the _precise_ rules don't exactly cover it all. But, of course, there is one crucial thing that would need to be there for guidelines only to work,"

"Which is for people to start thinking for themselves," Neville finished for Harry, since it was the usual thing he said in those kind of conversations.

"Actually, no," his friend surprised him,"The thing with thinking is that people can use it to make good things, or argument the bad things they've done. I mean, the reason why even the worst kind of person there is gets a lawyer in a court is because the average person can't think of a line of defence in the mess of a legal system that is in place now. What really is needed to make it work, is a proper mentality. Right now prisons are filled with people that are "innocent" or "had a bad lawyer"... because there isn't many people that will admit that they've made a mistake. With guidelines, say that destructive thing we mentioned earlier, you wouldn't need a lawyer, but simply to answer why your deed was more creative than harmful." Harry said, lifting himself upright and starting to count on his fingers.

"Murder, for one. If you kill a person, what good do you do, really? You're destroying any chance that in the future there is something created by that person. True, that person might end up being bad, but there is no point of acting unless they actually do something bad. But if that person is an escaped madman set to kill everyone in sight... then you've saved lives that person might have killed. You're a hero. Or if you burn houses. If you do it because you like to watch the flames, well, it isn't that good to destroy someone's shelter and possessions. But if half of the city is burning already and you're burning out ahead to limit fire spreading when it eventually gets there, you're hero again..." he said, but then saw that he had already driven the point home.

"What I'm saying here is that people do the whole 'It wasn't my fault', or 'I have my rights', or simply 'I got hurt, I should get something out of it' for the whole thing to work. People are too set to protect their little "Me" world to admit what really is happening around them..." Harry said, then blinked as something occurred to him, "And to think that people state so much that _I'm_ the one detached from reality," he muttered with a shake of his head.

"So, in the end, the whole 'If this more creative or destructive behaviour' can be done while sitting at breakfast table. And, it boils down to a simple way how to spot a bad idea-"

"What kind of way?" Hermione asked, thus far staying silent, mulling over what Harry said. She still had troubles with the fact that on one hand, some of the things that he proposed weren't easily conceivable, but on the other, in a strange, Harry-kind of way, they could really work...

"When you have everything set up, try thinking what could happen if only one thing failed," Harry's voice brought her back to here and now, "If you have the picture, try, in your minds eye, explaining the thing to the paramedics," he stated, making his friends blink in surprise, "If you have trouble thinking of 'where to begin'... that's a bad idea right there,"

Neville shook his head with a chuckle, needing to change the subject. Even if he had to admit that thanks to his friend he immensely improved his knowledge about the world, he still wasn't quite ready for the kind of conversations they were having.

"But getting back to the original topic, why didn't know about what happened with Umbridge in the first place? The whole school is talking about it."

It was strange how, even with most of the school locked in couple of places throughout the school, the gossip mill was still doing so well, with paper planes zooming in and out of the window being only one form of communication that was established.

"And why are you looking so tired all out of a sudden?" Hermione added her own question, seeing just how he was slumped in his seat, barely managing to keep his eyes open.

"Well, I'm surprised why you don't know about _that_," Harry replied through another yawn, "With so many things going on it's obvious that I'm the cause of all of it, right?" he asked, meeting only blank stares. "Well, it seems that Umbridge thinks so. So, she stormed in, and didn't tell me anything, simply pulled me to her office-"

"Wait, that's on the other side of the castle. How could she _simply_ drag you all the way there?" Hermione asked, frowning in thought.

"I was having a nap. She caught me by surprise," Harry replied with a shrug, which only made her rub her temples.

"Never mind. Continue, please," was her only comment.

"So, she dragged me to her office, and raging, going on and on how _I_ should stop such behaviour," he finished, like it was all that there was to it.

"And how did that end up?" Neville asked, seeing that Hermione wasn't about to make another risk at asking questions.

"I don't know," Harry said with a shrug, making his friend blink, "I left," he added, proving the effort truly futile.

"What do you mean you left? And she didn't stop you?" Hermione snapped. Somehow, she knew that everything Harry did made sense in one way or another. But she couldn't understand why it was always such a painful thing to get there.

"Ah, right. Now we come back to your question about why I'm so tired. I left her a dude."

"A dud?" Neville asked, not sure if he heard right.

"Well, you could call him like that," Harry replied with a mischievous smile. The usual smile that didn't bring anything good to anyone about whom Harry was thinking at that moment.

* * *

"Mister Potter, I repeat, I will not accept such a behaviour in my school. You must stop whatever it is that's happening immediately," Dolores raged.

The boy sat in the chair, his frame slumped, his gaze firmly stuck to the floor. Partly she was proud of herself, seeing him in such a pitiful state, since, clearly, it were her words that brought him to it.

But no matter what she said, he didn't do anything else but to sit there. She was slowly getting the idea that he might have fallen asleep... with his eyes still open.

"Oh, get out of it, boy!" she finally snapped, backhanding him over top of his head to get him out of his stupor.

That was the moment where a chain reaction had been set, beginning with one of the gaudy rings Dolores was wearing ripping the thin rubber that the baloon mannequin Harry set in his place – and laid an impressive array of compulsions upon, to make the woman think that he was still there – was composed of.

Then, like all balloons do when filled with air and being punctured, the mannequin exploded. The problem with such a natural thing for a baloon to do was that the compulsions were still there. That would probably explain why Dolores stood there shocked for couple of seconds, and then simply dropping to the floor as if dead.

Well, who wouldn't freak out when they would be standing right next to a person that suddenly exploded without any rational reason. Her office walls being splattered with parts of "Harry" weren't exactly any kind of reason to stay concious, either.

* * *

AN. A horrible chapter to write. The worst thing about is the timeframe. From the first occlumency lesson, there is a big stretch of time where things I think this Harry wouldn't botther himself with occur. Occlumency, Dolores running rampart, Voldemort's dreams, that date with Cho and inteview being the biggest part of it all. That leaves me with at least three monts of time where there is absolutely nothing happening. So, it will be kind of fast forwarding, but I finally thought of how to mix the scenes that it wouldn't feel that bad. That's also the reason why I cut it in half, since it this would be twice as long if I finished, and I curently don't have it in me. This is probably the best place to shut up now, because, as you can see, I'm grumpy..


	74. Chapter 74

Hey! If you know better than I do who I really am, then why should I still bother to repteatedly tell you just how not J. K. Rowling I am?

* * *

It's strange, the kinds of decisions people make when they're under a lot of stress. Or is it that the world simply loves to use those kind of situations to blow everything out of proportions?

Dolores, when she finally regained her conciousness, didn't attribute the fact that "Harry" was entirely gone form her office to the reasonable answer that the prank that was played on her, and went slightly awry, ended, but chose to believe that, as worthless House-elves were, for once, they did their job and cleaned the entire mess.

That led to the second conviction she acquired only seconds after waking up, meaning, that everyone in the school already knew what happened in her office. Maybe someone stepped into her office while she wasn't concious, or heard the commotion while standing in front of the door. Harry not being seen in the general population for longer period of time by itself was enough of a reason to raise questions and seek answers.

That's why, in her hurry to get in touch with Minister Fudge, the only person who could possibly understand her situation and help her, she didn't use the instant, but easily accesible and not all too secure form of communication that was Floo. Instead, she sent a hurriedly scribbled note, layered with every security charm she knew.

Problem didn't stop at that. You could even say that at that point they had only just begun. Because, even if the owl successfully delivered the note, a ministry clerk sweeping through the Minister's office due to the still fresh Azkaban incident,was all it took to knock a stack of papers, including the small note among them, and make them scatter all around the office. But given the protections it carried with it, mainly the one stating that it was only for Minister's eyes, the small note couldn't be picked back up and placed on the desk again. Instead, it was left on the floor, until such a time that Minister himself would take interest in it.

Meanwhile, Dolores found a spot in her office in which she rolled into a ball, waiting for the imminent rescue, or for the walls to simply fall down on top of her. Truth be told, the help did arrive. But it wasn't _that_ imminent.

* * *

After couple of days when no one saw or heard of Umbridge, the school slowly returned to it's normal course. Those that thought that they can simply lay back and not bother with classes any more, since they were ditching it thus far, quickly learned the hard way that their classmates were still eager to continue the pranking contest, and were constantly on the lookout for someone out of place, seeing that the main target of the competition was nowhere to be seen.

It quickly became a rule that, if you kept yourself busy, you were left alone. But if you felt that you had everything figured out... Well, people went creative to find you even newer things to do. Given that, Hogwarts returned to it's previous state, with mass of studying before the exams, and spouts of random fun here and there.

But even if the castle could be said to return to normal, there were, as always, some bizarre things lurking nearby.

* * *

"Hagrid, where are we going?" Hermione once more. She lost count of just how many times she inquired while Hagrid led them even deeper into the Forbidden Forest. She often wondered why around Harry, normal activities, if something like that ever existed in a magical school, always turned to be more complicated than one would think.

When Hagrid stopped them after their lesson, stating that he had to show them something, they immediately got the same idea that it was about another horribly dangerous animal he managed to acquire. Harry, being himself, said yes. Neville on the other hand chosen to stay behind, saying that someone had to relay it to Luna and Rose, and they could simply tell him about it afterwards.

She... Well, Hermione herself had a hard time deciding why she decided to go along. To make sure that Harry was alright? Hardly, seeing him trailing along, seemingly without a care in the world, like this entire trip was for sightseeing. You could also say that it was the need to solve the mystery of what it was this time that the enormous man brought to the school grounds... But now, after nearly an hour of going through what had to be the thickest foliage in the entire Forbidden Forest, even that thought wasn't enough.

"Just a little bit further," the enormous man replied.

"You said the same thing fifteen minutes ago!" Hermione whined, even if she didn't mean to. But seriously, she was at the end of her rope, especially because she just noticed that Harry seemed to be counting his steps.

That outburst made Hagrid stop and wait awkwardly as Hermione caught up to him and finally had a moment to catch her breath.

"Well... I think it's best if we stop here for a while. So, you know, that I can have a chance to explain the situation..." Hagrid recited stiffly. It was clear that he had worked on the entire speech while they walked, but still was too nervous to say it outright.

"Let me guess," Harry said, speaking out for the first time since they entered the forest, "During that trip to the giants you found a relative and decided to bring him back with you?" he proposed, making his companions blink.

"Well... Yes, actually," Hagrid replied, slightly happy that he didn't need to say it himself any more, and seeing that Harry was taking it in so well. But on the other hand... "How did you know?"

"He's standing behind you two,"

That statement made Hermione go into a wide eyed shock, and in a slow motion, she turned to notice a gigantic face watching her. That is, until she caught sight of a gigantic hand coming her way. Then, just like a deer caught in the headlights, she froze...

"Stop!"

Hermione opened her eyes, not realizing when she had closed them, only to realize that the hand stopped inches away from her. She lifted her gaze to the face peering from behind the tree branches, but the gigantic eyes weren't focused on her. She turned, following the gaze, and saw Harry unlike anything he usually was.

Most of the times he didn't had any problems, because, if there ever was one near him, he instantly found a solution and dealt with it on the spot. Other times, he could be said to have a plethora of personalities. But that was only when he was carrying out one of his plans, and fell into the role he had to be for the entire thing to work. But like he was now... Hermione honestly couldn't say if she ever saw him like that before.

He stood his ground, and you could literally feel in your bones that he wouldn't step aside or back down in any way. He stared back at a person nearly ten times bigger than he was, and somehow you knew that he still was the one who was fully in control of the situation.

"Sit!" Harry said, using the same tone as before. He wasn't shouting, even though his voice was raised. It was that kind of commanding voice which you simply had to listen to.

A small earthquake brought Hermione back from her observations, and she turned to see that the giant had roughly the same idea, and simply did as he was told. But what was even more bizarre about the picture, was that confused expression on the giants face.

Well, who wouldn't be? In one second you can do whatever you want, uprooting trees or lifting boulders of a size of a mountain... And in the second you're listening to an ant.

"Good," Harry nodded with a smile. But it once again was more about the tone of voice which he used, which truly conveyed how pleased he was.

He made an intricate pattern with his wand, and suddenly, a mass of swirly colours appeared in the air, and immediately the giant was gawking at it in awe, laughing and clapping whenever he managed to catch it, or simply pass his hand through it.

Harry was just thinking how to apologise to Magie for letting her butterflies go, when he noticed Hermione looking strangely at his wand. He caught her gaze, and simply pointed to Hagrid with his head, seeing clearly that she had forgotten that they were with them. As much as he loved the guy, he knew all too well that he wasn't best with keeping a secret.

Turning to the man in question, he said:

"Cute kid."

* * *

"Cute kid!" Hermione started when they were once again on the school grounds, having heard Grawp's story.

Hagrid, being an honest guy that he was, thought that something was bound to happen sooner or later, seeing that the Ministry in the person of Umbridge was adding even more restrictive rules. When something finally happened, he decided to stand by Dumbledore, no matter what. But before that happened, he had to make sure that his little brother wouldn't stay all on his own.

"How could you call a sixteen feet tall giant who is able to pick trees out of the ground a 'cute kid'?" she went on. She wasn't sure why she was so annoyed by the entire affair, but there simply were moments where Harry's strange mannerisms were irritating the crap out of her.

In her daze she haven't realized that Harry, who was in front of her on the narrow path between the greenhouses, stopped walking and turned to face her. Also, she didn't have even a second to consider it, because in the exact moment she bumped into him, he sneaked his arms around her and kissed her. And what a kiss it was...

"Hermione," Harry said, smiling slightly that he had to do it for the second time.

"Huh?" she finally replied, staring at him but not really seeing him.

"Please, don't do that," he stated.

"Do what?" Hermione asked, making him smile when she shook her head to clear it. But when that studious frown that she always had when she had to figure something out once again appeared on her face, Harry decided that she was once again concious enough to have a serious conversation.

"Don't go around getting angry at all the strange things I do," he stated, cutting to the chase.

"I know," she said with a sigh, "It's just that you usually..." she stopped, not able to describe it precisely.

"I usually don't behave anywhere near to what you're used to?" Harry proposed, which only made her snort.

"If that's not the prime example of understating things, then I don't know what is," she replied, although with a smile.

"But I'm serious when I say that I wouldn't do some of the things I did if it weren't for you," he said, staring her straight in the eye.

"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised, but felt that there was more to it, so asked "Why?" just to be sure.

"You see, because of all those things you're used to, and your belief in proper behaviours, you're the perfect person to share my thoughts with. Since I do all those outlandish things, if I can explain it to you and you consider it, no matter what you thought before or how long you believed something to be true... If in spite of all that, you're still seriously considering it, then that idea must have something in it. On the other hand, if I tell you something and no matter how hard I try you still don't see any point in doing something, then I know for sure that I should reconsider it,"

"Wait, so I'm suddenly your conscience?" Hermione teased.

"That's one way to call it," Harry answered with a smile, "But I like to think that I value your opinion too much to risk going ahead whenever you tell me to stop," he said, which made Hermione bite her lower lip, "So, whenever something I do is bothering you, just-" he went on, but was stopped by Hermione's:

"Harry?"

"Yes?" he replied.

"Shut up already," Hermione murmured, bringing his head down for a kiss.

It was after quite some time that Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, while he still held her close, running his fingers through her hair.

"You're sweet, have anyone told you that lately?" she said while playing with his tie.

"Only couple of mosquitos two days ago, why?" Harry replied of handedly, making Hermione snort with laughter and whack him on the shoulder for spoiling the mood.

"Come on, it's getting late," he stated, finally letting her go and resuming their trek back to the castle.

"So..." Hermione started moments later, "Grawp being a cute kid, how did you get to that conclusion?" she asked again, this time in totally different tone.

"Well, what else can you call him when everything he wants do is to have fun, and he grabs whatever strikes his fancy?" Harry asked back when they finally left the greenhouses behind and caught sight of the castle itself.

"Fine, he's a kid," Hermione agreed after a moment of deliberation, "But a cute one?"

"He's goofy in that usual..." Harry stopped, thinking about it for a while, "... Hagrid-kind of way, right?"

The comparison just made her laugh.

"Yeah," Hermione sighed, "I guess kind-heartedness runs in the family," she muttered, taking the bell that Grawp gave her – along with the handlebar of a bicycle that it was stuck to.

"Hey, about that thing, I want your honest opinion," Harry stated when she rung it, making her look at him again, "Should I be getting jealous here?" he teased.

That only resulted in her pushing him in the bushes growing along the road , and running ahead to get away from any form of retaliation, laughing as she did so.

Thinking about it, Hermione had to say that even if harry was infuriating from time to time, she woudln't have him any other way.

* * *

From that day onwards, whenever they had the time, Harry and Hermione, with their friends tagging along from time to time, went to see Grawp, with Harry teaching him how to behave around people, and not squash anything that happens to be next to him.

But on one of those occasions, when the group was walking back towards the castle:

"What kids like you are doing in our forest?" a voice reached them, and they turned to watch as five centaurs entered the clearing they were walking through.

There were couple of reactions to that question. Neville wasn't sure enough how to deal with the situation, so he stepped back, letting others to take the voice. Luna on the other hand stayed herself, and decided not to be bothered with it, filling the break in their travel with picking the flowers. Hermione was somewhat occupied with preventing Rose from saying anything, knowing too well that it wouldn't be proper in this kind of situation, to think of something herself.

Seeing what was happening, the centaurs turned to the only person that stayed calm. Even though he wasn't looking like he was concerned with the curent topic.

"You there," the same centaur called, tearing Harry from what he was doing, "What are you doing?"

"I was watching the sky before you disrupted me," he replied, returning his gaze to the skies.

Then, happened something that Harry's friends weren't expecting. Centaurs, instead of demanding the answer for once asked question, or doing anything that was possible in that kind of situation, simply turned their eyes to the skies.

Then, for a long while they simply stood there, and it seemed that they were more like statues than living beings, not moving a muscle as they lifted their heads to the sky. Strangest thing was that Harry was exactly the same, with him standing there, doing nothing but staring at the stars.

"What do you make of it?" the centaur who clearly was the leader of the group, asked Harry.

"Mars was shining brighter than it is now, but now others are gaining in strength," he replied.

Harry's friends didn't know what to make of it when there was no response, but after another long break:

"The human foal is right," the centaur announced, exchanging nods of approval with others that came with him.

Harry smiled slightly at no longer being called a child, and now refereed to as a foal. Only now did he sit down on the ground, waving his friends over to do the same, with the centaurs closing the circle. When everyone were comfortable, he told the entire story, from the moment when Hagrid brought his brother to the forest, to the present, when they were visiting him from time to time. During all of it, he haven't left anything out.

When he finished, Magorian, as the leader of the group was called, pondered it for a while, and in the end stated that if they ever wanted to go meet the giant, they should whistle a tune, and one of the centaurs will accompany them.

Then, like nothing ever happened, the five centaurs left, with Harry and his friends going their own way. Only when they were quite a distance from the clearing, did anyone break the silence.

"Okay, I know I'm not the only one who wants to ask this, so... Harry? Would you like to share what exactly happened in there with the rest of the class?" Rose was the one to start.

"And how did you know what to do? I mean, it's not like you have ever met a centaur before, right?" Neville added.

"And what exactly was that thing with you mentioning the stars?" Hermione asked a question of her own.

Harry turned to Luna, who was just finishing a garland made from flowers she picked earlier, but when she noticed that he was looking at her expectantly:

"Oh, don't bother me. I'm just waiting for the moment when you tell the whole story to explain it more clearly, so, don't mind me until you're finished," she said, returning to her work.

"Fine," he replied with a chuckle,"No, Neville, I have never met a centaur before. But Slytherin had. I mean, you can't spent as much time as he did in the outdoors, without encountering every creature there is. And to understand what exactly happened, you need a little background," Harry said, looking towards Luna who just shrugged, placing her garland on her head.

"You need to know that centaurs are keepers, guardians of a kind. Well, now it is a little more mundane, but still. The reason why Magorian said 'our forest' instead of 'this forest' is because we, people, have a nasty habit of thinking that if something isn't signed or labelled, stating in bold that it's already someone's possession, then it's free for the taking of anyone who calls dibs first. That's why we stick our flag everywhere we go, no matter if it's a new land or a new planet. We just think that if we made all this effort to get there, and there's no one standing there to meet us, we deserve to have that place... While that's not the point I'm trying to make, I just wanted for you to know why they seemed to be hostile at first. It's also roughly the same reason behind any major goblin rebellion or centaur uprising we ever learned. Greed. And I'm sorry to say it, but mostly on human side, since goblins ever started wars of their own when they tried to reclaim what was rightfully theirs in the first place."

"But even with lots of hostility on both sides, there are always ways to strike peace. Think of it as not interaction with another species, but with totally different culture. Stating whose right, or wrong isn't important, and especially not debating who is superior. It boils to the point where you simply don't disrespect rules others were living by for hundreds or thousands of years."

"So, like I was saying, centaurs are guardians. They were even millennia ago. You know how animals seek ways to survive, sensing changes in the world like volcano eruptions or earthquakes. Centaurs, thanks to their connection with nature, can do it too, but strangely enough, they're tied to the sky. For day to day future telling, especially for a single person, they read from the smoke. But for a serious round of precognitions, they gaze to the sky and observe the stars."

"Now, we, during our divination lessons, learn how do make a horoscope based on the locations of the planets on the nights sky this month. What a centaurs do when they gaze the sky is to consider every aspect of it. Not really positions of the stars, since those are roughly the same every time you look up, but such fine details like if a particular star is shining brighter than others, and how much so. If it's clear, or maybe something is obstructing the view. They don't do it for this month, but for years, decades and centuries to come. Also, not for a person, but whole regions."

"I don't know, I'm not a centaur, but let's say it's something like this... Mars is shining brightly for along period of time. Of course, Mars is the name of a god of war for a reason. Then, on one day, it flashes for an instance, even brighter than before, then slowly begins to dim. A skilled centaur that caught that, can tell that everything that is born now will be affected by struggle throughout their lives, and the conflict will brew, only to reach it's peak, and in one instance, everything will be decided. From that point onwar, something will change and conflict will no longer play a major role in the world,"

"That's why you described the sky tonight, right? But what exactly have you told them?" Hermione guessed, interrupting Harry's monologue.

"That the world is changing," he said with a shrug, and seeing her gaping at him, "Hey! Even if I were a centaur, I'm still young, and I couldn't know everything. Being a human, I don't even know how much of an impact will tonight's change have in the world. But that's not the most important thing. The thing that was important there is the gesture. I don't know... It's like people gathering in a place of a great tragedy. No matter their race, religion, country they came from... The most important thing is that _this_ is important and should be remembered. To all of them. It's just shows that we're not that different after all."

"But back to Centaurs being the keepers. Even with such a vast knowledge of the future, they can't do anything but correct the flaws," Harry started, only to be interrupted again.

"What? Why can't they change anything?" Rose protested, "That's stupid. If they know everything then they should be able to do what they please,"

"But that's the point. They don't know everything. They know important points. Like, for instance, a rare bird will die out. Like I said, I don't know the finer details of centaur future telling, but let's say that they know only that. But how will that bird die out? When? Where will be the last one? They know that it _should_ happen. They don't know what will happen if the bird won't die out. Maybe something that was meant to take it's place will never be there, and that changes everything that was meant to come after. But that's the main point. Centaurs don't interfere. They only guard that things would run it's course. And to do that, they don't allow others to interfere. That's why they're so vehement in protecting 'their' lands. While humans detached themselves from the nature, it doesn't exactly mean that there are no longer important things happening, that in the future could decide the future of the world,"

"A butterfly effect?" Hermione questioned.

"Of a kind, perhaps," Harry agreed, "But I was rather referring to the possibility that something may happen that will leave earth inhabitable for humans. Then, a variety of species ready and able to continue the circle of life would be handy to have, right?" he asked, making others stare at him. "What, it's a possibility. All I'm saying is that a centaur will only act if you're in the wrong place in a wrong time, and it is an outright hazard to the fragile balance that the world is in."

* * *

AN. Well, the part about centaurs isn't my greatest joy. I was trying to give a little background with a possible explanation why Firenze would like to get Harry out of the forest as fast as possible, even if he would have to give him a ride. It doesn't exactly feel right but I don't have and idea how to make it better, with this one still stuck in my head.

Also, a chapter or two and fifth year should be done.


	75. Chapter 75

This time I'm not going to tell you that I'm not J. K. Rowling... Damn it!

* * *

Hogwarts descended into a steady routine. Students learned as much as they could as fast as they could, in preparation for the end of year exams, with teachers constantly reminding them just how important it is to receive a high score. Harry's year was reminded of that fact more than anyone else – even the seventh year, as N.E. weren't mandatory.

Of course, there still was that thing with Umbridge lurking in her office, but since she haven't made an appearance in quite some time, no one really minded her much.

But even in that seemingly normal pattern – as normal as one could wish for in a magical school – Harry still had moments that were truly uncommon, jammed into his day. One of those was...

* * *

"POTTER!" Snape roared, just barely getting out of the bull run the brat prepared in his mind.

The closer it got to the end of the school year, more often Harry would find himself being called to the Potions Master's office. It seemed that the man was determined to achieve something, anything, before the end of term. But even when their sessions happened more often, or maybe because of it, they always ended in roughly the same way.

"Get out! Get out now!" Severus growled, grabbing the boy by the arm, and trying to physically throw him out of his office, like it happened so many times before.

But this time, Harry decided that it was high time to share the secret of his perfect defence, and explain, even if omitting some of the details, just how different his way of doing things was.

"Relax," Harry replied, putting his hand on the one forcibly gripping his arm. But since he really meant what he said, his magic responded to his wishes. And in a very peculiar way...

Maybe it was because the mental connection he shared with Snape moments earlier. Maybe it was because he thought that making the man think of a happy moment was the best way to give him a moment to regain his senses. Maybe even he subconsciously wondered what kind of thing Potions Master would think of as happy...

Whatever the reason, after Harry spoke the words, Severus didn't simply stop to catch a breath. Instead, Harry found himself walking straight into one of the man's memories. No, not a memory. A fantasy or an old dream, Harry corrected himself, watching what could only be his seven-year old self, playing with other kids that resembled his parents too much to be anything else than his siblings.

Then the kids looked to the side at the same time, and after he followed their gaze, he spotted his parents rounding a corner of one of the parks alleys. And beside them... Severus Snape strolled casually, having an idle chit-chat with both of them.

The adults stopped, waving the kids over, saying that it was time to go home. Kids jumped to their feet, running towards the adults with shouts of:

"Dad, look here!"

"Mum! You won't believe what Harry found!"

"Uncle Severus!"

Harry blinked at that, and watched the youngest of the bunch, a girl that probably was the perfect copy of Lily from when she was a kid. The little girl ran straight to the man, and he swept her from the ground, spinning in place and chuckling at her squeals.

When the girl was once again on the ground, the group turned and started their slow walk back, laughing merrily at all the adventures kids could have in a seemingly empty park.

Harry didn't follow them, stepping back instead... But when he exited the perfect picture, he didn't come to meet the face of a man stuck in a catatonic-like bliss. He stood there, his eyes wide, looking at the real Potion Master as he howled with grief-laced voice, beating the floor with his fists, asking "Why" time and time again.

Even when that inital shock subsided, Harry still couldn't move from the spot, because he finally, after all this time, understood what kind of man Severus Snape was. Earlier he saw all that anger and bitterness, but never could understand the exact reason why it was there. Now... now, he knew.

Snape wasn't a bad man. Angry and bitter, but not bad. And even those were reactions to the world that surrounded him. Harry still couldn't tell what kind of life Potions Master had before, that would twist him this way, but it couldn't be called sweet. Harry knew that for sure, because Severus Snape was one of the few people that he knew, that wouldn't mind if every other human being vanished from the face of the earth.

Harry couldn't tell, but somewhere in his youth, Snape had to acquire the conviction that only thing that came from interacting with other people was pain. Perhaps friendship with Lily was only attempt at a relationship that Severus ever made. But it definitely was the last straw. After losing that connection, the man shut down. If at that point the rest of the world left him alone, he could have lived his life silently. Would he be happy? Probably not. But he definitely wouldn't be bitter and angry.

But as it was, the rest of the human race didn't vanish. And the main problem wasn't that people still came to him, wanting something. The main thing that made him the man he was, was all the happiness around him. All that happiness and laughter, friendships and love... All of those were jabs at him made by fate, because he knew all too painfully that he could never have any of that. And that just made him hate the world more and more.

Seeing it so clearly now, upon being told to leave by the Potions Master that was still trying to collect himself, Harry didn't leave. Instead, he sat down and started talking. At first, Snape tried to shout him out, being too scared to touch him again. But when he noticed that Harry waited when he was done, only to pick up from the place where he was interrupted, he decided to sit through it until the brat was done and simply left.

But the topic of the conversation wasn't what Snape expected. Harry didn't lecture him on finer merits of life. He didn't give any advice or proverbs. Instead, Harry told of his early years at the Dursley's.

He told about living in the cupboard and being locked in regularly. Being shouted at daily and spanked when the situation "demanded" it, as his uncle used to say. He described precisely the list of chores he had to do, which he learned by heard by the time he was eight.

He told everything, not leaving out a single detail. Maybe he colourised it a bit. Or maybe it really was that ghastly when put into one place, rather than couple of years. But when he had nothing else to say, he simply sat there, thinking of his own past, until:

"I haven't realised before just how pitiful you are, Potter," the Potions Master said. But strangely, it was just a sentence, lacking any kind of ill will or tone meant to hurt tied to it.

Harry responded calling Snape a psychopath having a kid fetish.

With that out of the bag, for nearly an hour, the two of them would simply sit there, under opposite walls of the office, calling the other names. No, they weren't insulting each other, as it was clear both of them were too tired to put any emphasis into it. They simply exchanged words, stating outright just how sad, pathetic, deranged, broken, and anything that came to their minds, the other was.

When even those ran out, they simply sat there, staring at the other. That was until Snape started laughing. It wasn't that content chuckle that the man gave in that fantasy. It was more like "It doesn't make a bloody sense, so why do I care in the first place?" laugh, if Harry would have to call it.

It was the kind of laugh you hear when someone sits in the middle of the rubble of what previously was his empire, but finds one piece that survived intact, which previously seemed unimportant, and it's enough to make his day. A laugh that you give when you realise that you've been living at the rock bottom for more than half of your life, and only now realise that you've called it "Not that bad" all this time. A laugh that comes to you when you realise that that person you previously thought was so successful and perfect, is in fact even more screwed up than you are, making all the bad names you called them nothing in comparison.

As sad or mental anyone else might have called such a laugh, Harry smiled when he heard it. He smiled, because it was first, true, natural, uncontrolled reaction that he saw from Severus Snape. Upon hearing it, he stood up, cleaned his robes, and left, saying only that he'll wait for another summons. That only resulted in Snape's laughter ringing louder throughout the dungeon when Harry walked away.

Throughout the years that followed, people continuously asked one another if they haven't noticed how Snape changed. And he truly did. Even if he stayed cold and distant, he no longer was bitter and angry at anyone who happened to be in his sight. He no longer loomed around the class, but sat at his desk, minding his personal work. And future students no longer were scared to ask him a question, because, even though he didn't spare much time for each person, it was because he replied in an effective manner. And it could no longer be called menacing.

Even years after, whenever someone brought up "Snape's strange behaviour" around Harry, it always made him smile. Obviously, everyone thought that it was connected to some sort of prank Harry might have played on the man. He on the other hand simply shook his head, wondering how, even after all those years, no one beside him noticed it. That those eyes, previously cold and dark, now carried a soft glimmer to them. As if a light shone at the end of a very long tunnel...

* * *

At first, no one really noticed the effects of Harry's conversation with Snape. His friends took in his pensieve mood as a sign of another dificult thing he was deliberating, while the rest of the school was focused too much on what came next, to mind anything else. Because, what came next, came to be known as the biggest prank ever attempted on Hogwart's grounds.

* * *

"Dolores?" Cornelius Fudge asked in a calm voice, slowly entering the office of the High Inquisitor of Hogwart.

Upon arriving on the school grounds, ready to meet the image of total destruction that could be surpassed only by the end of the world, he was slightly confused at what he saw.

The school was impeccable. Students in perfect uniforms, walking in pairs throughout the school, saying polite welcome as he walked by. It was totally different image from the wild groups, trampling everything in it's path that he remembered from his own years. But there was more than that. Order and studious concentration in classes he passed, with pupils asking amazingly inquisitive questions. In the Great Hall, a meal, with each and every person displaying perfect manners as they ate.

Just by walking from the entrance to Headmaster's office, the Minister of Magic lost his conviction that he will finally have a reason to undermine Dumbledore, changing it to a pleasant surprise over such a success of Ministry's involvement, but total confusion at Umbridge's note that outright stated that the end of the world was coming.

Then Dumbledore explained, with all the calmness that he possessed, how a regular person, even someone working for the ministry, clearly isn't prepared to simply go to school and act as a teacher, mainly deal with thirty or so students at a time. Understandably, she was under a lot of strain, but no one could predict that she would simply barricade herself in her office and refuse to go out.

Fudge was pleased to hear that, no matter what they tried, Hogwart Professor's were unable to open the doors that were spelled to respond only to him. But the man became awfully quiet when Headmaster asked why he haven't came earlier, as they knew that she sent a message. It was the main reason why the school haven't bothered sending one of their own. To get out of explaining the uncomfortable matter that the note simply laid under one of his cabinets for couple of month, Cornelius excused himself and went straight to Umbridge's office. But nothing stated earlier prepared him for what he saw. "Under a lot of strain" simply didn't cover it.

"Cornelius!" the woman exclaimed, throwing herself at him, "How good that you're here. I've started doubting that you got my message," she went on, clearly not realising just how long it had been.

"Dolores?" Fudge asked again once he peeled the woman off of himself, and took a good long look at her.

He could barely believe what he saw. While earlier no one could call her the skinniest person alive, now she was just that, with her too large clothes hanging loosely on folds upon folds of too much skin that hung from her now smaller frame.

Cornelious was shocked to see what stress could do to a person. But the truth was that, since Hosue-elves cleaned up remains of "Harry", they clearly were part of the conspiracy that Dolores created in her mind, which sole purpose was to get her. That's why she didn't touch a single meal that appeared in her office, staying in one place day in and day out. It was fortunate for her that she developed the habit of eating in her sleep after the first week. But even that was just enough, and after couple of days, she started to loose weight rapidly.

"Dolores," Cornelious whispered, "Woman, look at yourself," he added, appalled how someone could be in such a condition.

"What about me?" Dolores suddenly stood at attention, "Did those brats do anything to me again? Please, tell me I don't have horns... I don't want to have horns! Especially not with that ghastly dress. It seems to attract frogs, and I have enough of their songs..." Umbridge broke down, wailing, and making less and less sense by the minute.

Because, combined with the image of the perfect school, with perfect students, with perfect order, all that Fudge could do in that situation was to make sure that Dolores was taken to a private room at St. Mungo's as fast as possible, and given the best mental care there is, until such a time that she once again had her facts straight.

* * *

Couple of days later, Daily Prophet brought news that, due to the state Hogwarts was in now, Ministry of Magic no longer felt the need to intervene. Reading the interview with the Minister, stating proudly the state of the school as he found it on one of his many regular visits, only made the students laugh harder.

They wanted to prank the ministry, but it seemed that now they've pranked the world with their perfect behaviour bit. It was good enough that Percy still maintained his need to state just how important his job was, even if he no longer placed it above his family. Thanks to that, Twins were able to relate the news of Minister's impending arrival on the following day.

As hard it was to prepare everything on such short notice, the way the school united over the year was immensely helpful in achieving the goal. Of course it wouldn't be so if not for the Ministry, sticking it's face right in front of them all, and being so willing to take a punch... Repeatedly.

Of course, there still were the chosen few that thought the entire thing was stupid. But they quickly found themselves in the Hospital wing, under the care of Madam Pomfrey, who already had a backup story of a minor epidemic being quarantined. As much the teachers hated the punk-tactics that were used, they hated Umbridge and, by extension, the Ministry, even more. So, in the end, they played along, which only made the plan so much more perfect.

Of course, when the Daily Prophet carrying the news of their "victory" came out, they regretted yielding, as and semi-official party got thrown in the Great Hall. It was a goodbye party for Umbridge, combined with the closure of the pranking contest.

Obviously, the group combined of Fred, George and Rose won, given Tins' experience in the field and Rose's cunning. But, surprisingly, they weren't the only joint group that was revealed that day. And it wasn't only with first and second years, too. It seemed that, more often than not, the old rivals, instead of finding partners, joined their forces to once and for all settle who is the better one. But throughout the year, as they were working towards their goal, that no longer was their main focus. And during all that time, they became good friends.

That's why, on that day, it wasn't so uncommon to see not only Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, but also Gryffindor and Slytherin groups, patting themselves on the back, congratulating jobs well done, and exchanging stories of how exactly they executed that particularly impressive prank.

But even during that day, there were still those few that weren't entirely happy about how things played out.

"What is it?" Harry asked while sitting next to Hermione and handing her a butter-beer he brought for her.

"It's just..." she sighed, taking a sip and glancing all around the room at all the carefree people. "As fun as all of this is, I don't think that people will be able to pass their Defence O.. Since, you know, they haven't learnt anything this year," she said, ripping the sticker off of the bottle to vent some frustration.

"Oh, really?" Harry asked, and Hermione looked at him strangely, since he used the tone clearly stating that she was mistaken. "Then just give me an example of what they _haven't_ learnt this year,"

Huffing in annoyance, "Like the Inflating jinx," she shot off the top of her head.

Harry just snorted at that, and turned, looking for something. After a while, "Hey, Justin!" he called, gaining the attention of the boy from the Hufflepuff, even if he was still some distance away. "It was your group that made Umbridge think that she was getting fatter, right?"

"Yeah!" Justin called back over the noise.

"That was a simple Inflating jinx, right?" Harry asked.

"Not so simple," the boy shouted back, "Stretched over time," was all he could manage before he was intercepted by a bunch that came to listen how exactly his group achieved the effect. It happened all the time, with people drifting between conversations.

"Got anything else for me?" Harry asked cheekily, turning again to Hermione.

Not so sure of herself any more, Hermione tried another thing. And then tried once more. Then named couple of things more. Each and every time, Harry pointed to group of people from their year that used exactly that to do their prank. In short time he was able to convince her that, even if everyone haven't learnt everything, they still managed to learnt a lot.

"But... but..." Hermione struggled to change her mind, that even in the middle of having fun, people still remembered all of those things.

"Hermione, if you leave kids in your home without supervision, will they think of a way to get out and go on a grand adventure? Or will they make the grand adventure come to them, repainting your walls with crayons, remodelling every room by moving furniture around and the likes?" seeing that she clearly knew what he was doing, but couldn't be bothered to play along, he continued.

"The same rule applies here. Even if the thought of pulling the Moon down here and comparing it with Umbridge's ego is interesting, it's not really doable. So, instead of going to all that trouble, people first looked what to use from their immediate surroundings. Having a textbook right next to them, they used that first. When they were done, they went to library for more tools that could be twisted to suit their needs-"

"That's exactly what we do..." Hermione groaned, admitting to herself that Harry once again had his way. This time though, on a totally new scale.

"Right. When we are in the library, we don't talk about finer merits of a wand pattern or intonation of the particular spell. We sit around, joke about it, laugh at it, put it in strange situations or environments. Then we simply go back to the original thing and point out what should be changed to make it perfect to the situation we just discussed. During all that, information about the spell and how it works sticks, simply because it's fun. Of course, then we have to go to the trouble of explaining it in a boring words, like teachers make us do during exams,"

Hermione just nodded her head, since she got the point. But it didn't stop being driven home, because over the time that was left until the exams, people really came to library more to study. And each and every time they did so, it was because studying suddenly became fun.

She thought that now, that she saw that, nothing could surprise her. That was until she came to wait in front of the class she had her Arithmancy O.W.L. scheduled, only to meet Harry, casually standing there reading a book.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, surprised.

"Taking the Arithmancy OWL," he said with a smile, like it explained everything.

"But you didn't take the class," Hermione stated in the same manner.

"If people can re-take their OWLs, or come from another country and pass them here, to prove their knowledge but under our regulations, then it's not really a matter _where_ you learned something, as long as you know it, right?"

"Well, that's one thing. But when exactly have you learned Arithmancy?" she asked, confused.

"While you were doing your homework," he stated outright.

"Harry, you can't tell me that you've learned everything by simply watching me do my exercises," Hermione laughed, since even Harry couldn't do that. Then she frowned, remembering some of the things he had done before.

"When was the last time you forgot something?" Harry asked her instead of replying, "I mean, anything. A date, a fact, a book in which you've read about that fact. Anything at all,"

"I..." Hermione frowned in thought, "I can't really say. It was a long time since that happened, I guess,"

"You see, I always had good memory. I thought that it's just something I had. But only recently did Slytherin explain it to me. It's about how we 'build' our minds, like with your library-" Harry started, but was interrupted.

"A mind castle!" Hermione exclaimed, with wide eyed look on her face. "A technique to remember things better. A place so vivid in your mind that you can move freely in it, just like in the real world., but spacious enough to hold a lot of things. People counting cards invent characters for each card and place them there. Remembering the path they took, they can immediately tell in what order the cards go," she said it in one breath, excited at the revelation.

"Exactly. That's just another creative thing your mind responds to better than simple drilling information into it. But with us, wizards, add an automatic cataloguing system, and all the information you encounter gets filled in, in one way or another. Even if it's just a reference or a feeling that you 'heard about it before' it's there, and you can trace it back to where you heard or read it,"

"Fine, Mr. Wise-guy. Yo-We can remember things better," Hermione corrected herself at his meaningful look, "But that doesn't mean that you can do everything you hear about," she said, and noticed that he started to sheepishly scratch the back of his head.

"Well, when we were choosing our classes, I explained, in a way, to you why I've chosen only Divination and Care of Magical Creatures," Harry started.

"In a way?" Hermione asked, interested in that particular choice of words, "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, there's always couple of ways to explain something. You don't have to lie, just present all the available facts in different light, and it will change how the other person receives it, right?" at her nod, he went on,"So, the short story, no matter other reasons, I've chosen those two subjects because they're practical,"

"And?" Hermione asked after waiting a moment, wanting to hear the rest of the argument.

"No, you don't understand. That's it. I've chosen those two because they were practical classes. Well, Care turned to be practical, since I changed Divination to my Acting class," Harry said, scratching his chin in thought.

"Wait, Acting class?" Hermione tried to keep up with him.

"You know, making others think that you're someone that you want them think you are. Acting class sounds better than Lying class, and it goes well with the classes we had with Lockhart in the second year, right? I wouldn't want my talent to get spoiled because I haven't used it..." that just made Hermione groan.

"Nevermind," she sighed, "Practical. You were saying?"

"Right. If you have something practical, like knitting, you can't simply read about it. You have to do it at least a couple of times to know that you're at least competent at it. But when you have, say, a puzzle, all you need is to know the rules, and then simply think of the solution,"

"You can't tell me you treat Arithmancy as a puzzle," Hermione scoffed at him.

"Well, that was just an example. More precise would me arithmetic's. You know, I always hated doing homework. Not because I didn't knew how to do them. It was the oppositet. When, after couple examples I caught onto the rule behind that particular task, while looking at an example, I immediately went for the solution. Writing everything from the start was just too much trouble. But that's the main thing in learning, right? Being confident that you know the rule. Then it's simply implementing that rule to solve even harder problems,"

"So, you really learned Arithmancy from simply reading my notes?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Well, even though I didn't do as many examples as you did, I feel confident enough about what I'm doing," he said, and she nodded her head, "But I still like Ancient Runes better," Harry commented, at which Hermione's eyes bulged, "Although I think that's because of Slytherin. I think I gained afinity to dead languages from him, since I can instinctively point to the right translation..." Harry wondered.

"How am I supposed to live around someone like him?" Hermione asked the heavens while shaking her head, "Picking up knowledge simply because he's bored," she sighed when he placed his arms around her.

"Well, it probably is the perfect time for you to finally throw out your definitions of work and fun," he said with a smile, "To me, it's all the same," he finished, gaining only a punch on the shoulder for his trouble.

* * *

AN. And since I haven't seen a good place to add the career advice scene, here it is.

* * *

Harry stepped into McGonagall's office:

"Ah, Mr. Potter," she called, lifting her gaze when she heard the squeak of the hinges, "Come in and have a seat," she stated, returning to examining the files on her desk.

Harry sat there, silently waiting for her to finish.

"Well, Harry," Minerva started, lifting her gaze to look at her student, "I see that your results are well above the average. You almost never fall below the top of the class. If you will continue working in this fashion, and maintain that level on your O., I have to say that you will have plenty of career choices to pick out from. But please, tell me, what would you, personally, want to do after you graduate?"

"I'd like to be a revolutionist," Harry answered right of the bat, at which Minerva's eye's bulged.

"Excuse me?" she asked in her shock.

"You know, Professor, a person who brings something revolutionary into the society," Harry explained, watching her curiously.

"Ah," Minerva sighed in understanding, "That's an innovator you're talking about, Mr. Potter," she corrected him, at which he only shrugged. "No matter. With your scores, and your... _creativity_," she stressed the word, looking at him meaningfully, "a career as an inventor, in many fields, is well within your grasp. But since you would need your NEWTs to work with the best, you still have couple of years more to think in which particular field you would like to work in. Is there anything else you would like to add?"

"No, Professor," Harry replied.

"Well, then. You're free to go,"

Even after he left, that little slip at the start still wouldn't leave Minerva's mind. It wasn't because it was a strange mishap, but... thinking about the boy. Dear Merlin, she hoped that it was _just_ a mishap.


	76. Chapter 76

With all those times I thought of how to tell you that I'm not J. K. Rowling, I constantly have this feeling that I'm repeating myself...

* * *

Exams ended, but there were still couple of days before the end of term. Given that, Harry was unsurprised to receive another message from a professor, asking for a meeting. But unlike what he was expecting, this one was from Headmaster.

It was quite a long visit, with some things revealed and some falling to pieces. But once Harry exited Dumbledore's office, he was immediately intercepted by his friends, demanding answers. He had no problem with sharing what he learned. It clearly wasn't what they've been expecting.

* * *

The group sat in the unused classroom they've picked, staring at Harry who seemed to be unaffected by the things he just told them.

"What do you mean there's a prophecy stating that you're meant to battle the Dark Lord?" Neville asked, even as it was the third time he did so.

"But this thing doesn't make a sense," Hermione muttered, thinking of how to decipher the wording, "_Neither can live while the other survives_," she quoted, "It's the strangest line in all of it,"

"Yeah," Rose joined in, thinking of the same thing, "It's like if they're both alive at the same time, it's as good as if they were dead." she shot from the top of her head, and looked towards Harry.  
"It doesn't go well with what Dumbledore told you, that Voldemort can't be killed by you alone. It's more like, if you don't have a duel before some kind of deadline, you're both dead."

"Now that's just one of multitude of interpretations," Hermione interjected, "And it's just a sentence from a larger thing that you have to keep in mind," she reminded.

"Yeah, like the part where he has to deal with the Dark Lord," Neville once again muttered, not believing that they were having a serious conversation about this.

"It can also be that it isn't about Harry at all," Luna added her two cents, as always reminding everyone that they were taking some things for granted. "Clearly, we have only Dumbledore's word on it. Will I get a candy if I can name at least one time he made a huge mistake?" she asked, clearly serious about it.

"Don't bother," Harry said, throwing her some candies that were left after their latest picnic. But his statement wasn't addressed to her, but to the entire room instead. "It doesn't even matter what the prophecy states-"

"How can you say that it's not important!" Hermione shouted in exasperation.

"Love, please, take a breath and calm down. Then think about it again," he said, smiling that, even if she huffed in annoyance, she closed her eyes and started breathing deeply. Only when she opened her eyes again, did he ask a one word question. "Prophecy?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it sharply, seeing clearly that he was referring to all the times she complained what a complete waste of time Divination was.

"One reason why no one should ever bother with a prophecy is because it's fates way of screwing with people," Harry started casually, "If it's a completely genuine one, it shouldn't even matter if people it's affecting know it in the first place. It will be fulfilled nevertheless. No matter if I run away from it or rush straight towards it, destiny is already at work to ensure that it will come to pass, one way or another. That's really the only reason it is introduced. To make people act basing their chances on it. But that's not really what I meant when I said you shouldn't bother with the prophecy," he stated, gaining full attention of his friends.

"What I meant was that you shouldn't bother, because even without the prophecy, I already knew I had to take on Voldemort," he finished.

"WHAT!" was the immediate response of their group. Well, everyone except Luna, as she, like always, remained calm, staring back at Harry with a curious look.

"What the bloody hell do you mean by that?" Neville regained his voice first.

"First of, seriously, everybody calm down," Harry had to repeat himself, "And while you do that, think of how we do magic, and where exactly Voldemort fits in the picture," he stated, seeing a slight smile creep on Luna's face. He winked at her, since knowing her, she had it right at the first try.

"What do you mean "fits in the picture'?" Rose asked, wondering about the strange wording.

"Well, we are doing magic wandlessly, following traditions from a millennium ago, nearly exactly like Founders did it. But Voldemort-"

"He's the opposite," Luna supplied the answer, making everyone to turn and look at her.

"That's exactly what he is," Harry agreed with a nod, "While we are reinventing a long dead fashion, Voldemort is the newest, freshest, most flashy trend of the bunch. You could say that he's in front of his generation, since the things that he does are logical continuation of where things were going so far. Power hungry, envious, cruel, self-obsessed... He's what every witch and wizard will be like, if people that can have everything on a whim will still persist on having even more." Harry stated, letting the picture sink in.

"If we want to make this place at least a little better, dealing with Voldemort is the best place to start. Prophecy is just a confirmation that there's something important going on in the world," he finished.

"And you told Dumbledore that you're all for it?" Hermione asked after a moment of silence, "How did he react to that?" she asked, and noticed when he winced.

"Truth be told, we never got that far," Harry replied, making his friends cast confused glances at him. Then he told them exactly, not only what he learned, but also how the conversation itself looked like.

* * *

"Ah, hello Harry," Albus called when Harry stepped through the door.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" he asked, seeing the man surrounded by stacks of parchments.

"Yes, yes. Please, have a seat," the man stated, finishing his work for the time being and making the parchments to stack themselves in the desk drawers. "Severus tells me that he cannot teach you anything more about Occlumency," he said, making Harry smile slightly at the wording. "It seems that your natural creativity helped you to grasp the most advanced form of it, which is creating images for the attacker to see, in very short time," Albus said with a pleased smile.

"Excuse me, sir, but did Professor Snape really say that?" Harry asked, already expecting the answer.

"Well... no," Dumbledore said truthfully, loosing his smile for a moment, "He didn't use those exact word, but I can tell you that he was pleased with your progress," he said, and after a moment of hesitation, "If you don't mind me making sure?" he asked, waiting with his wand already drawn.

At Harry's nod, Albus cast the spell, and after he got used to the bright light shining right at him, he noticed that they were no longer in his office. Instead, they were sitting on a bench that stood on the top of a slight hill overlooking a city. The sun was just about to set, playing on the glass and metal of the various buildings in the city that stood in the valley, making shadows stretch longer and longer, giving it something of a majestic look.

"Oh, my," Albus muttered, watching the beautiful picture that would be perfect, if it only could be captured in a frame. "Indeed, you're a very imaginative person, Harry," he complimented the boy sitting right next to him, not tearing his gaze from the view even for a moment.

He closed his eyes, enjoying the breath of fresh air that the evening breeze brought to him, but when he opened them again, he was slightly disappointed that they were once again back in his office.

"Well, with that out of the way," Albus said, enjoying that he could have that moment of peace in the first place, while he stood to retrieve his Pensieve.

With the device on the table, he quickly retold what he had learned so far, before inserting the memory. Both of them watched the ghostly image of Sybill Trelawney, repeating the prophecy that she gave a long time ago. But when the image sunk back down, there was only one thing that Harry asked.

"Is that all?"

Seeing a gentle nod that the Headmaster gave, he nodded himself, stood and went straight for the door.

"Now, Harry," Dumbledore's voice stopped him, "I know that it's a lot to take in, and it certainly is shocking. But don't you think that it would be best to talk about it?"

"Well, I'm not an expert on prophecies," Harry said, standing by the door where he stopped, "But yeah, I have this thought that's suitable for the occasion," he continued, moving towards one of the windows in the tower instead.

"I don't know that much examples of prophecies at work in the real world, but have you noticed that in fairy-tales they're clearly divided into two groups? There are the ones that state that when a great darkness is coming, a hero will arrive to battle it. Then there are those stating that, in a land of the darkness, where everyone is suffering, a leader will rise to lead his people towards the brighter future." Harry said, taking a while to think about it himself.

"I always thought that prophecies appear only in those few, key moments, where the universe can't decide which route it should take for the next couple of hundreds of years. I mean, if that hero will fail and darkness will win... That just brings us to the second case, when, in the world where the darkness is the new norm, someone rises to set it back to right. That's why I always doubt it when I hear that it will be the end of all things. Nothing really ends-"

Harry stopped suddenly. It wasn't because he lost track of what he was saying or simply changed his mind because of an unexpected realisation. It was because of a long, loud snore that came from behind him.

He turned, only to see Dumbledore sleeping in his chair, with his head falling slowly to one side. The picture made him smile. Well, the man probably had a long day, and it was usually him that gave long boring speeches.

Shaking his head slightly, Harry summoned a blanked from Headmaster's private rooms, and draped it over him, being careful to not disturb the man. But when he was about to silently walk towards the door, he found himself falling face first towards the ground.

Out of instinct, he reached out to support himself. It was unfortunate for him that the thing he grabbed was a unsteady bookshelf loaded with heavy tomes. At his sudden jerk, it went crashing down, landing on top of Heamasters desk, knocking various instruments standing there to the floor, and raining heavy volumes on top of him.

'It isn't so nice when it happens to you, is it now, Mr Potter?' he heard the voice, and through his fogged eyes, he noticed Slytherin sitting in a chair that stood in a dark corner, petting a little black cat that was sitting in his lap.

All Harry could do when he caught that picture, was to groan.

It was strange that throughout all the commotion, Dumbledore stayed sound asleep. Fortunately, it gave Harry an opportunity to return the office to the shape it was in when he first came, before he finally was able to leave.

* * *

AN. And with that, we end the fifth year.

That scene with Slytherin came to me at the last moment, but... I don't know. It's somewhat pleasing to rough Harry up once in a while. I'll have to do it more often in the future.


	77. Chapter 77

Isn't this thing where I tell you I'm not J. K. Rowling getting a little old by now?

* * *

After returning to Privet Drive, Harry had only couple of nights of good rest in his own bed. Because, upon one particular evening, a sound of boards being nailed to the wall reached his ears...

Harry's eyes shot open, and he glanced around the smallest bedroom of number four. Yet, he haven't noticed a particular direction which could be called responsible for emanating that kind of sound. Frowning shortly, he finally understood why the sound seemed to be so overwhelming, and, after closing his eyes again, he found himself right next to Magie's home.

Now, having a clear direction from which the sound reverberated, he started walking at a brisk pace, with the sound getting louder the closer he got to his destination. Upon reaching the hut hidden deep in the forest, the sound was so loud that, after opening the doors, he wasn't surprised to see Magie with large earmuffs on her head, and Nessie...

Harry blinked, watching the strange girl skipping around the place to what she probably thought was the best song ever. Even if the only thing you could hear was still that furious beating.

He turned, finally gazing upon the source of the commotion, and watched in fascination as the previously still painting of Voldemort, now worked fervently to get separated from the group in the shack as quickly as was possible.

What torn him from his observations was something big covering his ears, and that ringing noise that lingered whenever an ear was put under a lot of strain.

"I'm glad you finally joined us," Magie said when he turned to look at her, "He's been like that since she came back," she added, pointing to the girl who was jumping all over the place.

"What happened?" Harry asked, marvelling that earmuffs that Magie gave him blocked only the sound of work that was going on, but nothing more.

"Dunno," she replied with a shrug, "We should probably ask her," she proposed, only to turn and be scared half to death by the fact that Nessie was already right next to her.

It seemed that even being completely strange had it's advantages, because, at it was made clear over the next couple of minutes, Nessie acquired the unique ability to talk in all, strangest kind of places. Discotheques, racing tracks, shooting ranges, or even construction sites with a sledge hammer working right next to her. All of it without being inhibited in the least by the loud and sharp noises all around her.

But even with that, the fact remained that she couldn't be anything less than strange, with a prime example being...

"So, let me get this straight," Harry started, while rubbing his temple, "You felt like dancing, and automatically, Voldemort felt that need too. That's why he gathered Death Eaters that he had at hand, Imperio-ed them and made them dance conga when they stared at him blankly when he first asked for it. Since it's a big strain to control a room full of people, he passed out, and Death Eaters thought that it had gone far enough. That's why they checked him over, expelled you, and that means that we have once again lucid Voldemort that is currently sealing the entrance to his mind on our hands?" he finished, checking if he understood fully what Nessie told him in her own words.

"Pretty much," was the short answer from the girl that was doing twirls, ballerina-style, all over the room.

But Harry turned to a snickering Magie instead, eyeing her with a questioning gaze.

"You said, expel," she said, not even attempting to stop her laughter, "I just imagined what kind of surprise they would have if, after they tried to exorcise the evil spirit out of Voldemort, he would be the one kicked out, and Nessie stayed there for good."

Harry just rolled his eyes as a response. He had to remind himself that Nessie's behaviour was contagious. Now probably more than ever. What withe her newly acquired experience.

"Fine," he said, getting back on track, "But what I would like to know now is if he knows what made him act like that? Does he know that you've been controlling him-"

"I've done no such thing!" Nessie suddenly stopped her frolicking, and challenged Harry to say otherwise, serious as she could possibly be, "What I did was only to move that line separating the 'That'll never work' ideas from thoughts of the kind 'It's far fetched, but it has potential'. What and how he did things, was all his doing. I just pointed to all the fun interesting things he was omitting,"

"Interesting things?" Harry repeated, doubtfully, "And that was enough to make him do all those things?"

"Well, if you do something an inch at a time, then after enough time passed, you've travelled a mile," Nessie replied, her break over since the painting just brought another board it could work with.

"So, this is just Voldemort checking through his mind and repairing whatever damage there is?" Harry asked and watched her nod. Well, it either was a nod, or a rock-like shake of the head. He couldn't be sure.

But what made him sure was that Voldemort kept on working. After that fist patch up work with boards, he got to more permanent things, ranging from concrete to something that sounded like solid slabs of steel.

Peculiar thing in all of this was, that no matter how well he sealed off the connection, there always was that slight hole for the mysterious link between him and the baby to go through. It seemed that even he couldn't consciously cut it of. Or maybe it was that the didn't want to.

Thoughts of Dark Lord's motives and a construction-site-like noise were the main things that filled Harry's thoughts. But in the exact moment when the ruckus finally stopped, something else became apparent.

Dursleys were going away.

At any earlier point in time it would be vacation to which Harry would never be permitted. But this was not such case. Marge became sick, and even if her last visit didn't put her and Vernon on best terms, the man changed to the point where he could omit any past problems, and simply go help his sister.

That's why, knowing that neither Marge, nor Harry would like to see the other, Vernon wanted to make sure if it wouldn't be any trouble if Harry went to his godfather much earlier this year. Simply said, Sirius was all for it, and the date was quickly set.

But on that day, it wasn't Sirius that knocked on the door of number four. Instead, it was Dumbledore...

* * *

"Where are we?" Harry asked after the squeezing sensation left him, and he noticed that they were standing on a street that he didn't remember even remotely.

"Since such a splendid occasion presented itself, when we meet outside of school, I thought that it's a great opportunity to convince an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts. You see, we are, once again, one member of staff short. I thought you may be able to help with that," Dumbledore answered while walking down the street.

"Gee, sir. You could have told me so earlier. Now I'll have to improvise my performance," Harry commented, and noticed Headmaster smile a little, even though he couldn't help but let sarcasm slip when he spoke.

It wasn't that Harry was angry about this detour. It was just that Dumbledore had this major flaw where he automatically assumed everything was going to go according to the plan. It wasn't even that Headmaster assumed wrong this time, since Harry was glad to help. It was about the fact that even if a thing had to be done, it was clear decency to ask anyone you want to involve if they didn't have anything against it.

So, as to not say something untoward, he bit his tongue and followed Dumbledore. He silently watched the curious spectacle of Headmaster finding Slughorn and the both of them fixing the room. But it wasn't until Albus left under the pretence of using the bathroom, that Harry understood the the exact details of the plan. Especially when one glance at a wall lined with pictures sprung Slughorn into a lengthy monologue, describing who exactly he knew.

That was when Harry understood that Horace Slughorn was a collectioner. But he didn't collect stamps, postcards, baseball cards or anything like that. Instead, he collected people. More correct way to put it would be that he collected connections. Because, like always, more interesting part was why he did what he did.

Horace didn't gather successful people around himself because he liked company of the famous, the successful and the powerful. It wasn't even about the fact that he influenced them, like Dumbledore stated it.

It was because Horace Slughorn was mediocre. And even if that was the case, there wouldn't be anything wrong with that, if not for the fact that it defined pretty much everything he did.

Probably not once in his youth, Horace had to listen, or even be a witness, to a remarkable discovery or feet of magic done by one of his classmates. Over time, more than one would spring up with something ingenious. But him?

That was most likely the underlying doubt that thrusted him into becoming the man he was now. Not the level of magical powers. Not the skill he showed in his work. But that comparison. That feeling that, when placed right next to one of his more successful colleagues, he simply didn't compare.

That's why, even after all these years, having reached mastery in his field... He still sought out people even more successful than him. Not for the power and influence that it could give him, but because of that feeling that, since they treated him as equal, he had to be just that.

That's why Harry didn't discuss or doubt any connection the man brought forth to show just how important people he knew. He dismissed it all, and when a pause in the man's speech occurred, he asked one question.

"What was your subject?"

"Well, I'm a Potions Master," the man replied, clearly surprised, "Albus haven't brought that up, has he?"

"No, not really," Harry said, frowning slightly, "Headmaster only said that we need a teacher,"

At first he asked his question to check if he had heard or read about someone important from that particular field. But aside from that he also learned who was most likely going to be the new Defence teacher. Reminding himself of the man standing right next to him, Harry finished his ploy.

"Then you probably taught Professor Snape, haven't you, sir? he asked, fascinated.

"Severus? Why, yes!" Horace's eyes lit up, having a new person to tell about, "Really bright, that one. Very quiet, that for sure, but bright nevertheless," he remarked, lost in the past, "Why do you ask?" he inquired, returning to the here and now.

"Well, it's just that Professor Snape is an exemplary potions brewer. And since you taught him, I'm really curious what kinds of tricks you still hold up in your sleeve," Harry commented, playing on man's self-importance, and clearly omitting the proverb stating that student is bound to exceed the master.

"Yes, yes," the man replied with a chuckle, "Can't hand all the best answers to the students on a silver platter, now can I?" he joked, falling into his part.

"Well..." Harry sighed, "Then I guess I'll never have an opportunity to ask about them, since you're not coming back to teach at Hogwarts," he mumbled, "Pity," he added, returning his gaze to the pictures hanging on the wall.

Slughorn looked like he wanted to say something, but as if on cue, Dubledore came back, saying that it was time that they left the man alone. That statement about a lost cause that Headmaster added was a nice touch, and by the time they reached threshold, Slughron was already caught.

But even with that out of the way, it still wasn't the end of the day.

* * *

"Albus! Thank Merlin, you're here!" Molly came bustling out of the kitchen when she heard the front door open, "We have an emergency meeting, but we couldn't find you anywhere," the woman announced and, after a moment of hesitation when she glanced at Harry, ushered both of them to the kitchen.

There, just like he always did, Harry sat quietly listening to everyone reporting whatever they've managed to gather. It seemed that Death Eaters finally came out of hiding, starting with destruction of the Brockdale Bridge to keep the ministry busy. That and a giant rummaging through West Country was only a cover for a series of attacks. Bones and Vance families seemed to be the ones targeted the most, with only Amelia Bones barely escaping alive. She wouldn't have such luck if Dark Lord himself bothered to visit. But still, attack on her house was on such scale that all the layers of protection that were prepared for such a case, hold only long enough to let her escape.

Of course, there was also much speculation about Rufus Scrimgeour who became the new Minister, since Wizengamot decided to kick Fudge out. Even with a year of heads start, the man did so little in terms of preparing the wizarding world to repel any possible attacks, that there was no single wizard left that would still manage to produce a single argument that would prove Cornelious to be anything less than completely useless.

Harry sat through it all, only now seeing what a "once again lucid Voldemort" really meant. That's why, when, like always, Dumbledore wanted to simply finish the meeting after hearing all of the news, Harry decided that it was time to act.

"Why don't we reciprocate for the hello Death Eaters gave us?" he asked, loud enough to get over the noise of people getting up from their seats.

"Why do you mean?" asked some, but...

"Harry," Dumbledore said kindly, and his voice instantly silenced the room, "We can't behave like our enemies. We must firmly stand by the light-" the man started a speech that he probably gave thousands of times before.

"Headmaster," Harry interrupted him, "If I may make a slight digression here, now that you've mentioned it," he continued, knowing that some people were muttering about his behaviour.

"Somewhere in the past, there was a time where battles that you are talking about. Like two generals having a drink in the middle of the battlefield, to, not even negotiate, but to simply have a talk. Or when combat was still conducted with swords. Then, with a large group of soldiers, you couldn't have everyone against everyone. Instead, there was a series of duels going on, and if one of the combatants had a problem with, say, his armour, they both took a break, with squires working to fix the problem. They simply rested there, with other people killing each other all around. Only when they were both ready, they resumed their duel," Harry said, his eyes cast far away.

"Then a new era came, and humans thought of new way to rage war. Blitzkrieg. No designed battlefield, no face to face combat. Attacks could come from all places at all times..." he stated, stopping there.

People gathered in the room exchanged glances, since, even as minutes passed, he still simply sat there, staring off in space.

"Harry?" Dumbledore finally asked.

"Yes?" the boy replied, turning to face the man, then scowled, "Where was I again?" he asked, and it made people mutter.

It wasn't because the question itself, but over the way he spoke it. Because, while normally it was only a figure of speech, the way he said it, made it seem so... genuine.

"You described how war changed," Headmaster supplied.

"Yes, it changed," Harry continued, like nothing happened, "But the main thing that changed wasn't the way people raged war, but their mentality. Once, there were rules put in place to ensure that the best man won. And even if you lost, mentality was that it wasn't a bad thing to loose to a better man. But once people started throwing those rules out of the window, the act of winning became more important than the way you won,"

"Honour, Headmaster. That's one thing Death Eaters would need to have for the kind of war you want to rage to work. But right now, when they don't respect any kind of rules, not even their own, there is no way they would even understand why you are acting this way. To them, it'll be just an act of weakness, or anything else they deem it to be,"

"But that's exactly what I mean, my boy," Headmaster replied, like it was a discussion over breakfast, "We can't go out and behave just like them,"

"And I'm not going to propose that," Harry countered.

"No?" Dumbledore asked, eyebrows raised.

"No, because there is one major flaw in the position that they so willingly put themselves in. Without any rules, they can do anything they want without feeling guilty. But without any rules, anything can be be done to them," Harry commented with a smile.

"I must say you have me confused, Harry," Albus said with a frown, "What exactly are you planning,"

"To say it clearly, I'm not planning to step down to Death Eater level and can right now promise you that not one of them will be harmed by my hand. Or anyone's on _our_ side for that matter. All I'm going to do is to show them exactly what living without any rules means," Harry stated, and before anyone could ask him any questions, "Professor, are all the new recruits given Death Eater garbs?" he asked, turning towards the shadowed corner of the kitchen.

"Yes," Snape replied. He usually didn't divulge into every Dark Lord's secret, since not much could be disguised and hidden in his memories if he wanted to go back. The fact also remained that even if he would spill everything he knew, nothing probably would be done about it. From all the people sitting in the room, Potter was probably the only one who could devise a decent plan. Even if it was with what little Potions Master was willing to share.

"And are the garbs universal?" Harry continued.

"Only members of the Inner Circle, that act as lieutenants, have different masks. The garbs themselves are always the same," Snape said, wondering why the boy wanted to make sure of something that could be said to be universal knowledge.

"Thank you," Harry nodded to the man, turned towards the rest of the group, and finally described his plan in detail. Like it was always the case, when he finished, it left people gaping at him.

"Fine! I'll give you that it's a no risk plan," Kingsley said after nearly fifteen minutes passed, with people stating just how improbable Harry's plan was, "But _if_ it works, and if it's all it takes to hinder their forces like you say, what do you want the rest of us to do?"

"Look for anyone moving stifly, twitching, or acquired some very disturbing ticks. The more he does that, the higher in the ranking of power he will be," Harry commented with a wicked smile.

Snape gulped, because, while Potter only described it vaguely, he could clearly see what exactly that statement meant. Even if he would never admit it, he was glad that the boy included an acceptable excuse he could use to get out of coming when the Dark Lord called all of his servants.

* * *

The meeting ended moments later, but when he tried to leave the kitchen:

"Harry," Dumbledore called after him, "If I could have a moment,"

With only the two of them in the room, and with security spells placed by the Headmaster to ensure that no one would disturb them, Albus finally began to explain what it was all about.

"I must apologise for the time I revealed the prophecy to you. It was long day, and it seems I'm not so young any more," the old man stated with a chuckle.

"It's no big deal," Harry waved it off.

"Well, nevertheless, that's not the only thing that I would like to share with you. You see, over the years I've managed to gather a lot of details concerning Voldemort. I think it is time for you to learn them, and to make up for that lost evening, why don't we have our first session now?" Dumbledore proposed, and with a brief flash of fire, Fawkes delivered the familiar looking pensieve.

Over the course of the next hour, Headmaster described Voldemort's family, showing Harry the memory of Bob Ogden, then speculating just how Merope was able to get to Tom Riddle and conceive a child.

Harry was stunned throughout it all. It was only when he was once again in his bedroom that he regained some clearance of thought.

'It's real,' he thought, something he repeated over and over from the moment he walked after Bob through a hole in the hedge, and down a narrow, winding path, towards the hut hidden deep in the woods.

'Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!' he berated himself, 'You knew that most of the things in that Town have reference in the real world, and yet it never occurred to you that that place can be real? Stupid!'

'You know that talking to yourself could be called a symptom of a mental illness?' Magie asked, appearing right next to him as he kept beating himself over the head.

'I think I'm long past the initial symptoms,' he commented, making her smile, 'And it's not really talking to yourself that you should watch out for. It's when you argue with yourself and loose that is the real problem,'

'True,' she replied through a laugh.

'But getting back to the thing at hand,' Harry said, going to look out the window, 'We have a road trip to plan,'

* * *

Couple of days later, Harry's solution to the recent Death Eater activity came out, and mysteriously, a copy of it found it's way right in front of the Dark Lord. In no time, what started as a regular meeting, turned into a living hell for every Death Eater in the room.

"Imbeciles!" Voldemort hissed, sweeping the room with his gaze, "Which of you is responsible for this?" the livid man threw a copy of Daily prophet in the face of a random Death Eater.

Everyone turned, as much as they could without attracting attention to themselves, to stare at the front page story.

**Bizarre Coincidence Results In A Massive Take Down**

_Due to the recent Death Eater activity, the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, decided that doubling the size of Aurors force was the best place to start in protecting our community._

_Of course, Auror trainnig still takes some time. That's why many Hit Wizards were contracted, to fill in the gaps before new recruits were ready to fill the gaps._

_But imagine the surprise of the group of Hit Wizards that came to prove their worth, when, upon entering their designed target, they encountered not only rooms that they had to sweep through in accordance to procedures, but real, life inhabitants._

_It seems, dear readers, that a Deat Eater group haven't checked the background of their new hideout, and settled themselves right in the middle of an old training camp, that just got reactivated due to the recent change in Ministry policy._

_Because of the confusion coming from such an unexpected encounter, both parties were unsure how to react in the face of the situation. And, even if all of the Death Eaters managed to escape before the protocol was changed to one suitable for real raids, Hit Wizards reacted quickly enough to harm many Death Eaters before they fled._

_This reporter got to the scene just in case to be present when Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, who was responsible for judging the experience of this group, managed to finally get a detailed list of everything that was left in the unfortunate hideout._

_Aside from many Death Eater garbs, proving that it was a real group, there were many spare wands and potions ingredients that now can be put to a better use._

_It seems that the new Minister had the right idea, placing experienced personnel just where they were needed..._

Then the article moved to describe the whole encounter. But what sealed the deal was the picture covering bigger part of the front page, showing piles upon piles of supplies being carried out of the room.

The thing was, that not single person from the Death Eaters standing in the room knew anything about it. They looked among each other to spot that person who failed so miserably, and now refusing to admit it, since there was only one penalty for incensing Dark Lord so badly.

But since Voldemort's question was left unanswered, the already stressful meeting with the greatest dark wizards in the living memory turned to be longest and most painful day the Death Eaters standing in the room ever remembered.

* * *

While the magical community was busy with the news, Harry went on a little trip to the countryside. But upon stepping from the Knight Bus, he immediately got the feeling that he followed the path he was on hundreds of times before. Truth was, he did.

In no time at all, he was standing right in front of the cabin that, even while looking worse for wear, was exactly the same place as the one he carried in his head. Stepping through the threshold, he went right to the loose floor board he knew to be there. Upon lifting it, he saw a richly ornamented box. One glance at Magie's grimace, and he knew that she wasn't disgusted by the dust.

'What's there?' he asked.

'Something black and creepy, like a mould or fungus. It just makes me think of something rotting,' she replied, getting a little green.

'Rotting?' Harry asked to make sure that was exactly the word she meant.

'Yeah,' Magie replied with a decisive nod, before she looked anywhere but at the box, 'How do we get rid of it?'

'We don't,' he replied, standing up and glancing around the room for the first time.

'What do you mean we don't?' she asked, confused, following him as he slowly walked around the room, clearly looking for something.

'I mean that we don't have to,' he stated, finally grabbing a cup that laid under one of the walls. 'Come on, we need water,' he said, walking right back out of hut.

Magie was slightly confused. He stated that he wasn't about to do anything, yet he was preparing to do some sort of ritual.

There was more than one reason why wizards, who could instantly create everything from scratch with a little bit of magic, still crafted their working equipment and built their homes from wood that had grown naturally and stones mined from the earth. One was that matter could absorb limited amount of energy before it began to change it's shape or properties to fit itself to those new circumstances. That was the main reason why animals and plants begun evolving rapidly in ways that previously were impossible, whenever a wizard was around.

But when it came to items that wizards used, there was another, more serious reason. Each and every spell was designed to affect a thing in one particular way. That's why, after placing one enchantment on an item, adding another one that would have opposite effect would be futile, bringing no effect at all. Or it would cancel the first one out. Or even make the enchantments unstable, trying to do their work no matter what, resulting in a some kind of explosion.

That was why warding was such a precise art. When putting the basic layer up, wizard already had to have an idea in which direction he was going, since even that base for every other spell limited his selection. Then, while adding other layers, he had to think of ways to incorporate other spells that he had in mind. The end result have to be firm as a wall, protecting the designed area from outside interference. But flexible at the same time, as to alow all the different spells to work and take effect at the same time, without giving any unwanted effects.

That's why a wizard would only conjure a cup full of water if he wanted a drink. Never to use it in any ritual and potion, since, the magic that was already was working in the water, would surely affect them, one way or another.

Even knowing that, Magie couldn't tell what exactly Harry had in mind. She didn't wait long before he started verbalising his thoughts.

'Plants are said to be the start of the food chain. Eaten by herbivores, that are then eaten by carnivores that simply die... it would seem like it's the case. But it isn't. Sure, plants can grow pretty much everywhere. Give them a little ground, water and sun, and they'll do okay. But give them something spoiled or rotting right next to their roots and that'll get them growing. It wouldn't be the case if not for bacteria, fungi and other decomposers that break dead matter that no other living form deems usable, and reintroduce them as basic components needed to build life. That's why manure does such a fine job as a fertiliser.'

'And what does it all tell us about our current situation?' Magie asked, just to be sure that she wasn't listening to all of it without a reason.

'Just what I told you already. That we don't need to get rid of it. Because, as much of a natural response for a human is to immediately get rid of anything that is smelly or rotting, the organisms feeding on it aren't exactly our enemies. In fact, without them the circle of life, the life as we know it, would most likely be impossible to maintain.'

'Fine, but what exactly are you planning?' she asked, slightly annoyed over the long walk.

'Right now, that creepy thing you described is probably sealed off, hanging in stasis until someone stupid enough will grab it. Then it will stick to whatever it encountered, and start the rotting process, no matter if the thing that it encountered is dead or still alive. The only thing we need to do in this situation is to tip it over, and let the circle of life run it's course,' Harry finally stated, reaching a small stream, and filling the cup he was carrying.

* * *

Once again in the cabin, Harry took a sip from the cup, and spoke softly:

Water of life, we drink you today,

With our life, we'll debt this repay

Saying it, he handed the cup to Magie, who also took a sip.

You give life to what is, and what will be,

May you never be taken for granted, nor for free.

While Magie handed the cup back, the water seemed to sparkle more brightly, as if having a shine of it's own.

One thing ends, another begins, life still flow,

In another shape or form, water makes it grow.

After he spoke the last word, Harry tipped the cup and poured all of the water on top of the ornamented box, with Magie instantly putting a large, glass semi-sphere on top of it.

At first nothing happened, but when only the water touched the seeds that Harry gathered along the way and put around the box, vines started to sprout, tightly wrapping the box to soak up all the moisture. Just like Harry said it would, when first vine touched the box, it blackened, with the process reaching down to its roots. But that just made roots of the other plants to reach there, in the search of new source of food, and even newer vines to sprout.

It lasted until there was so much mould, that the entire process turned into a greyish-green pile of goo, that kept growing in spasms, with processes of growth and decomposition still raging within it. Just when the organism was large enough to touch the glass of the seal that Magie placed over it, it stilled, loosing it's green tinge since, whatever organic life that evolved in an environment so rich in magic like that one, spread out the limited fluids so thinly, that it could no longer sustain itself.

Moments later the greying pile cracked up and fell apart, since bacteria that fed on the plant to balance out it's grown, up until now working over hour, having no longer an opponent to fight against, turned to the only organism that was left hat they could take apart. Themselves.

Not more than a minute after it started, all that was left was nothing more than a fine dust. Harry was curious if the dry powder laying at his feet could be the best ferthiliser that ever existed, but abandoned that thought when Magie deemed the box safe, moments after she finished her examination.

Opening it, Harry found even more of the powder inside, but right there, in the middle of the box, was a ring. It wasn't that beautiful or well crafted, but there still was something about it that left Harry kneeling there, staring at it, dumbfounded. It was a feeling of meeting an old friend in someone who you saw for the first. Something elusive, yet so vivid that kept you staring no matter how hard you tried to look away. It was...

'Strange,' a voice startled Harry, and he turned to see that Slytherin had joined them.

'What is?' he asked, and saw a slight hesitation on the face of the older wizard.

'That you still allow yourself to zone out in the middle of your enemy's hideout, over a item with enchantments unknown to you all over it. And to think that I thought I taught you anything,' Salazar responded in the end, shaking his head in disappointment.

'Yeah, it's time to go,' Harry muttered, shaking his head to clear it slightly.

He emptied the box of the powder, then closed it without getting the ring out, and left the cabin, not thinking about the strange feeling again.

* * *

AN. I don't know why, but this story simply wants to be left without a proof-reader. I sent first chapters to pyro-briar, but after I noticed that he haven't replied in a while, I started looking for another beta. Strangely, all the people I sent requests to, haven't wrote me back as well.

I'll keep on trying to find someone, but if anyone reading this would _seriously_ like to give it a try, please, write me. Because I'm slowly getting the idea that there is something wrong with me...


	78. Chapter 78

If you still believe I'm J. K. Rowling, raise your hand. *glances around and sees no one with their hand raised* Good, and I'd like it to stay that way.

* * *

Time passed, with Harry for once enjoying the slow paced life. Well, if you consider a stream of witches and wizards steadily flowing through the house you are living in, bringing news of war that was begining outside, to be slow paced. But aside from meetings of the Order, there truly was nothing important happening in his life. That is until one evening when...

"Harry," brought him back from a deep slumber. Immediately upon opening his eyes, he noticed that he was in a guest bedroom of Magie's house, and not his room at Grimmauld Place.

"What is it?" he asked, sitting on the bed.

"Come on," she simply stated while standing, before she left the room.

Instinctively, Harry knew exactly where they were going.

"None of us were in there long enough to take a good look. You know, because of the noise," Magie told him along the way, "I really don't know how that baby could sleep through all that noise. Never mind. The point is that I went there and noticed that we got a parting gift from Voldemort before he sealed himself off," she said, opening the door to the hut.

Stepping through the threshold, Harry instantly knew what she meant. On the door of the room in which the cup was placed, now hung a sign stating proubly: Bella's room.

Coming closer to the door, "That's strange," he muttered.

"What is?" Magie asked, following him.

"Earlier, there was a doorknob and a lock here," Harry stated, running his hand along the smooth piece of wood. After giving it a shove, "And it's closed now," he said, when the doors wouldn't budge.

"And what does that tell us?" she asked, taking part of the voicing board for him.

"On one hand, it could mean that he gave it to her, and is completely unaware where it is now, since he doesn't know it himself," Harry answered, staring at the door like it was a book holding all the answers, "But on the other hand, seeing how paranoid the man is, I really doubt that he could live while being completely unaware where part of his soul is. No matter how much he trusts her. That would mean he gave it to her, and she assured him that it's as secure as it could possibly be, without going into much detail,"

"But where is it, exactly?" Magie asked the question he was pondering.

"Well, she wasn't carrying it around, that's for sure. Lestrange mansion was raided and searched so many times that they practically replaced all the wards around the place at one point. We're in the Black's residence, and have been here long enough to make sure that there was only one in here..." Harry stopped counting, simply staring at the smooth door in front of him.

He extended his hand and ran his finger along the wood, then started chuckling.

"What? What is it?" Magie asked, not liking that she was left out of a good joke.

"Oh, this'll be fun," Harry commented, still chuckling.

"Care to share?" she asked again, slightly miffed by his behaviour.

"Think about it," he started, turning to face her, "Hagrid told us when we first came to Diagon Alley. Aside from Hogwart's, the safest place on earth is-"

"Gringott," Magie stated, her eyes wide, "You don't mean..."

"Think of all those times wizards made basic mistakes," Harry stated, "But if I'm wrong, then it will mean that I'll have one less topic to talk with Master Ragnok, since we already have to go there," Harry said, and pointed to the ring that was still hidden under the board of this imaginary place.

But moments later, he noticed something else. He glanced between the crib and the corner where the kitchen was, then moved swiftly towards the cupboards. Opening one with a postcard from Hogwarts stuck to it, he saw that the diadem still was inside. What was gone, was the connection that it once shared with the rest of the things.

"Now we _really_ need to go to Gringott," Harry stated, once again lookind towards Magie.

* * *

When the day of the trip to Diagon Alley finally came, Harry couldn't believe just how much the street had changed. It wasn't about the Ministry posters lining the street, or the photographs from which known Death Eaters were glaring at the street. The most noticeable change was in how people behaved.

And to think that all of it because of an ice-cream maker.

As much as the Ministry called people to stay away from danger, it was in that moment when Death Eaters were trying to drag Florean Fortescue out of his ice-cream parlour that a bunch of wizards weren't really dangerous, when faced with an angry mob. It took only one wizard who remembered how things on the Quidditch Cup Finals went, to step out of his hiding place, and it started a chain reaction. By the time Death Eaters turned to deal with that pesky person screaming at them to stop, that one wizard already had fifty more backing him up. Seeing that, Death Eaters were in such a hurry to leave that Florean had no problem in getting away from them.

From that moment, the street looked nothing like it used to. There was no sea of heads as long down the road as the eye could see. Now, people did their shopping in organised groups, constantly on the lookout for anyone behaving strangely. And as much as it reminded Harry of an army marching up and down the street, he understood now why there haven't been any attacks on Diagon Alley this year, with Death Eaters targeting only families living in non-magical communities.

That organised behaviour that everyone displayed in Diagon Alley robbed Voldemort's supporters from their only advantage. Hiding in the broad daylight. Earlier, they could simply fire of into the crowd from all directions and escape before anyone noticed who was firing. Now, anyone who was by himself was watched carefully. And an attack as a large group wasn't in their style. But even if they tried, it wouldn't be effective. Sure, they could do some damage, but after a first swish of their wands, they would instantly be targeted. Not only that, but surrounded, and vastly outnumbered.

That's why, when Harry's group walked down the street, instantly taking the same formation that everyone else took, it was strange watching Draco walk down the street only with his mother.

He, looking as smug as he ever was, probably saw people stepping out of his way out of respect. Harry on the other hand saw entirely different picture, with people taking defensive positions by the shops, and moving on only when Malfoy passed. The feeling of suspicion was almost tangible when they followed him with their gazes until he moved out of their field of vision.

Narcisa had to notice it too, casting worried glances all around as she hurried behind her son. It was no surprise that when they only got near the Knockturn Alley, she dragged him towards it to get them out of the spotlight, not hearing a word of his protests.

Harry smiled, seeing that wizards did know how to change and adjust to new situation, as to find a good solution. And even if this one wasn't the perfect one, it was a start.

But even with that piece of good news, the fact still remained that he had his own problems to deal with.

* * *

"Ah, Lord Potter," the old goblin said while the doors to his office, "It has been quite some time since the last time I have seen you,"

"I'm sorry about that, Master Ragnok. I've been busy lately," Harry bowed shortly before taking his seat.

"It's quite alright," the old goblin waved his apologies aside, "I've heard what you've been busy with," he added, chuckling at the memory of all the news coming from Hogwart this year. "So, with what I could help you this time?" he finally asked.

"First of all I would like to know what of the diadem?"

"Ah, yes," Ragnok said with a frown, "After your owl delivered the message, we checked it. It is in fact free of the dark energy that once resided in it. I can say that it's more than that,"

"More than that?" Harry asked immediately, and as if on cue, one of the goblins in the office placed the diadem in a simple case right in front of it.

Picking it up from the case, he concentrated, and could feel the magic coursing in the item.

'It's just like I remember it,' a voice whispered in his mind, and he opened his eyes to see Slytherin staring at the diadem with hope.

"It seems that whatever was infused in it was extracted, leaving the item itself, and all the enchantments that were originally placed upon it, intact," Ragnok unknowingly repeated in his own words what Slytherin stated just moments previous.

'I don't get it,' Harry thought to himself, 'But the diary,'

'I have to say that it coming from it without alterations is truly unexpected, but don't tell me you thought that Rowena's work would share the fate of a muggle notebook that wasn't suitable to hold magical energy of any kind in the first place. Not saying anything about the transfer,' Salazar said, 'The most important thing is that it's possible to get the enchantments removed completely, without harming the original item,'

'You will have to wait for that, my friend,' Harry said sadly, 'It seems that whatever you did to that locked is triggering, or at least helping the transfer. I would guess that there are some intelligent wards around the soul piece. They are meant to keep it in, and with it gone to another container of the same type, their purpose is still served. But then, without the need to keep the walls up, the energy is simply distributed to the ones that are still switched on. With the diary, it got burned because of the magical backlash. Here, with the diadem, it seems that the spells only got strengthened. But the fact remains that your locked still serves as the beacon to which other pieces are drawn,'

'Not important, as long as getting rid of them is possible,' Slytherin said with finality, casting one last glance at the diadem before disappearing.

"Lord Potter?"

"Yes?" Harry snapped back to reality, noticing Ragnok who watched him curiously, "I'm sorry. I was just lost in thought,"he replied, placing the diadem back in the case.

"I was asking if there is something else I could help you with?" the old goblin asked, and it clearly wasn't the first time that he tried to get the answer.

Harry didn't say a word, merely pulled the ornamented box from his pocket and placed it on the desk.

"Another one?" Ragnok merely asked upon opening it.

"Yes, and probably one more," Harry said, but then another thing came to his mind, "But before we come to that. Dobby!"

"Yes, Harry Potter?"

At the soft spoken question, not only Master Ragnok, but every goblin in the room jumped slightly. Wariors guarding the office immediately pointed their swords at the elf that appeared without the faintest of pops. Still, they were unsure how to proceed, since Dobby haven't as much as acknowledged their presence - swords in hand or not.

"Could you take this diadem to Seharol? Tell him that it was cleansed of all evil it once carried. I bet he will be happy to see it once again,"

One wave of Dobby's hand was enough to make the whole case disappear, just as soundlessly as the elf himself arrived.

"Is there anything else I can help with?" the little elf asked unfazed by all the attention he was getting from the goblins

"Nothing I can think of right now," Harry said with a smile, "Thank you, Dobby. You were most helpful,"

With a nod, Dobby disappeared in front of their very eyes, leaving nothing that would indicate he was there in the first place.

"Oh, my," Ragnok's mutter made Harry turn to face him, "It was a long time since I heard of a free elf. I never imagined anyone would see one again..." he said, watching Harry with different eyes, "Was it your doing?"

"Truth be told, I haven't done anything beside being there for Dobby. All the really important changes are his responsibility," Harry replied, thinking how his elf friend was anything but the hysterical bundle of nerves he once was.

"I did you great dishonour, Teshe Potter, I must apologise for that," the old goblin said, bowing low.

"Teshe? I've never heard this word before," Harry said, trying to understand what was happening, "One with power?" he guessed, using his limited knowledge of the goblin language.

"I'm proud to see that you have learned well," Ragnok said with a smile, "But we, goblins, do not translate it. It's another word for a wizard. While goblins can do magic, it was never on the scale that humans can. But the reason why you haven't heard of it before, is that we only use it in tales of the old times, when wizards like you lived among us. People whose sole purpose was to heal the broken, and set right things that gone wrong. Ones possessing that unique power to find balance even where only chaos seemed to reign,"

As strange as it was, in that exact moment all that Harry could think about was 'The power the Dark Lord knew not'.

"That is why I must apologise for calling you by anything but your rightful title. Because, wizards can be good or bad. Lords can rule wisely or stupidly. But in every legend that I know of, whenever an Teshe called place his home, it meant peace and prosperity for all who lived there,"

Harry considered disputing it for a moment. For one, not all the stories he knew that were about wizards in the past ended happily. But it wasn't even about if the image of that kind of wizard was correct or not. It was about the fact that Ranok thought highly of him, and would keep on doing it, no matter how long or hard Harry argued against it.

In that respect, goblins literally eradicated their race of self-worth issues. Praise of any kind was so hard to get, that when it finally came, it meant everything to one receiving it. And when one goblin spoke highly of another, it was taken as a fact, since there had to be solid reasons for saying it out loud.

That's why Harry didn't had a chance to persuade Ragnok, or any other goblin, as he watched them exchange meaningful glances, since the only way he could make them stop showing respect, would be to loose it. Something he wasn't planing on doing.

"Now, what have you earlier meant saying that you probably had one more," Ragnok asked, getting back on track.

"Of course, I understand that not one of Gringott's staff would ever break the trust that clients have for you," Harry started, and already noticed that faces of every goblin in the room hardened at his words, "That's why I first would like to ask of you to check if my guess is correct," he said.

"And you believe that one of those items you've been collecting is here, in Gringott's?" Ragnok asked, and it was clear from his voice that he wasn't pleased. What about, Harry wasn't sure.

"Yes, I think so, sir," he replied, and waited.

Ragnok watched the man sitting in front of him. It was true that he stated his respect for the man a second earlier. In cases like the one they were discussing respect the parties had was of no importance. The only thing that was important was if they actually had the right to do what they asked of. If they didn't, it simply wasn't done, without any exceptions from the rule.

But it wasn't like Harry was trying to get access to one of the vaults. All he asked for is to check if an item of doubtful purpose haven't found it's way into the bank. And even if he, himself, brought more than one of those, he was open about it. The first think he asked was to make sure that suitable protections were in place. To think that something so foul could lay in a vault suited only for keeping the robbers out, where one of untrained goblins could stumbled upon it on his routine check. Unacceptable.

Reaching his decision, Master Ragnok asked about which vault should be checked, and sent one of his assistants to gather a group suited for search and handling of such an item.

"If you are mistaken?" the old goblin asked.

"I am willing to pay for the valuable time it had taken for Gringott's staff to search through the entire vault. Aside for that, I'm prepared to personally apologise to the owner of the vault on their next visit to the bank. I wouldn't like it to seem that the fault of invading on their privacy laid on the goblin nation," Harry said honestly.

Ragnok nodded, seeing it as a good enough solution of the situation. If the owners of the vault had problem with the intrusion, it would make the person that put it motion responsible. Seeing that employees of the bank haven't done more than was needed, the conflict would be only between the two sides, leaving Gringott's reputation untouched.

"And if you are correct?" was Ragnok's following question, since he knew Harry enough to know that he already something prepared.

"Of course, once again, I do not know what type of contract Gringott has with this particular client. That is why I merely want to aks for you to judge if my reasoning is sound," Harry said.

"Please," Ragnok said with a nod, indicating that he was ready give his service to a client.

"As I see it, when a client signs a contract, say, stating that the bank will protect their wealth in form of money and posessions, that is exactly what the bank does. But, if the client will present the bank with a task that is outside of the previous contract, that task can only be executed once an additional contract had been drawn, or an addition had been made to the old one," Harry stopped at that, waiting for a sign to continue.

"You are correct," Ragnok agreed, "Every service needs to be accounted for. Please, continue,"

"So, if a client brings a piece of property that requires a special handling, say, needs to be be protected not only from someone getting in, but also from something getting out. Or is considered an entirely different service, like guarding a person, then the bank needs to ensure that those services are also included in the contract. It means that the bank needs to count in the cost of the service for the lenght of time that it already have been executed, and requires a fee to establish proper security if the client wants for the job to be continued."

"That is also correct," Ragnok nodded, thinking of all the times when he was a young goblin and had to explain to people that storing relics was nothing like storing money that could be dumped on a pile. Saying nothing about other things people thought were so similar.

"But if a client is unwilling or unable to come in and draw a new contract, then the item in question is put on sale. From the amount of money it can mangade to produce while in auction, the cost of the service is deduced, while the rest is put in the vault of the owner of the item. Of course, on the of chance that the item is too dangerous to be of any kind of use, it is destroyed, since that solution is cheaper than any kind of handling for which even more work would be needed from the employees of the bank. Then, any claims made by the owner over the loss of the item are equalled by the loss the bank suffered while managing the item."

"It is true," Ragnok once again stated, wondering why Harry was going into the most basic regulations, "I must say, I'm curious as to where you are going with this..."

In that moment, the doors to the office opened, and the assistant who was sent to investigate Harry's claim stepped inside, carrying a box with a statis spell on it, in which a certain golden cup hovered.

Ragnok read the report prepared by the curse-breakers once his assistant placed the box on his desk, and snarled when it became clear that Harry was more than right in his guess.

"My final question, Master Ragnok, is what would happen if you would find someone willing to pay for such a dangerous item? It would not only take it off your hands, but also prevent the bank from taking any kind of loss," Harry proposed with a small smile.

The old goblin looked at Harry for a while, then once again glanced at the report, with his eyes ending on the cup. Remembering the diadem that was in his office earlier, a nasty, toothy smile blossomed on Ragnok's face.

"Good business is always good news to the goblins," was all the old goblin said, before the two of them started striking the details of the deal.

And so, for two weeks from the day Harry visited the bank, Belatrix was receiving more and more pressing summons from the bank to come for a questioning regarding her business with the bank and set their affairs right.

Unfortunately, a sudden bounty on the heads of all the known Death Eaters spoiled her plans. It seemed as the Ministry had finally decided to turn the defensive position it has found itself in to a offensive one, and encourage even more Hit wizards and even professional bounty hunters to join the ranks.

Harry thought that Ministry did Belatrix a big favour. Because, next to goblins you have disrespected, an army of trained wizards set to get you was nothing in comparison.

* * *

AN. Teshe is just something I typed in. I'm not aware of it being a word of any kind. In fact, if it is really a word and means something in any kind of language, please, tell me about it.

Well, a reviewer by the name "Me" went to the trouble and searched for references. I have to agree that:

"Teshe" as a Coptic (dead egyptian language - roughly) word for Neighbour - sounds like a good fit to me XD

It also is a word in Verdurian and has a meaning in Urdu. Either check it yourselves or find the review for more informations. As for the reviewer, I guess I owe you 30minutes. Any ideas how I could pay you back?


	79. Chapter 79

My first name isn't Joanne, if you catch my drift...

* * *

The train ride that year was nothing like anything that happened on board of the Hogwart Express thus far. For the first time there were no parts of the train that were dominated by a particular house. Instead, everywhere one could find carts filled with a mix of students. Of course, there still were groups that kept to themselves. Surprisingly, they weren't only from Slytherin. But it seemed that most of the school, influenced by the previous year, finally got over their differences.

This year was also different, because, even as it was close to departure time, Harry Potter was still not present in the compartment he and his friends usually spent their trip in.

Knowing that Harry would be fine no matter happened, that wasn't much of a bother. And besides, they had another topic to talk about.

"You know what's strange?" Rose spoke up, using the new seating arrangements to finally spend the trip with the group. "I was at home, and it got me thinking. Electrical devices don't work at Hogwarts, but no matter how long I stay at home, it doesn't do anything to the things there."

"I noticed it too," Hermione replied, with Luna and Neville listening closely. It wasn't that they could take part in all the conversations of this kind, but with three muggle raised in their groups, they were quickly coming up to speed about the actual state of matters in that world.

"I mean, we still don't know what kind of energy or force magic is exactly," Hermione continued, "But I guess it's the difference between active and passive form of it."

"Like it's right now. We're sitting here, and the stuff is just floating around," Neville said.

"Right, and since electrical current is a flow of electrons from lower to higher electrical potential, the magical energy is probably simply dragged for a ride. Say, like a leaf in a stream." Hermione finished.

"But when there is a spell cast, the energy previously passive has a purpose of it's own. It has a defined target to which it hast to move and a purpose to do there,"Luna added her two cents.

"And to continue with the comparison, it would be like a jet-boat going up the stream, leaving splashes on the banks as it goes," Rose took over.

"Yes, and with all the wards in place around Hogwarts, not saying anything about all the wizards and witches casting spells, with energy rolling in waves this and that way... There are too many disturbances for anything needing a steady flow of power to work." Hermione finished.

"Oh..." Rose muttered, getting everyone's attention. "It's nothing. I just understood why that new telly dad bought didn't work as it was supposed to. And the one which the company sent to replace it... and the one after that," she muttered, making everyone grin. "We finally settled on our old one, but by that time I stopped letting my _friends_ out to play," she finished with a shrug.

"Well, it just proves that even if our way of doing magic is more localised, it still has some effects. But it seems like it's closer to throwing a rock into the previously mentioned stream. Even if it makes some ripples, it's too small to make a big difference." Hermione summed it up.

Right in that moment the doors to the compartment slid open, and Harry finally joined his friends. Hermione immediately stood up to give him a kiss, to which, as if on cue, Rose rolled her eyes. With Neville's help, Harry's trunk was placed on the luggage rack. Right before the train left the station everyone were once again seated and comfortable, which allowed them to finally question Harry.

"So, how did your OWLs go?" Hermione asked immediately.

Others in the compartment exchanged amused looks, thinking that even after all this time, and all they've been through, this would still be the most important question for the bushy-haired girl.

Harry didn't reply, seeing that other were over this already, and simply took out the letter with his scores, which quickly made it's way around the compartment. His grades were really good. Not almost perfect like Hermione's, but he didn't fall below Exceeding Expectations. It seemed to be norm in their group, since even Neville managed two Outstandings.

"So, which ones are you going to continue?" Hermione continued right after she passed the letter on. It only made the others roll their eyes.

"I think that I'll study Runes and Arithmancy on my own like I did so far," Harry started, scratching his chin, "I mean, it was enough so far, and I can fit it into my schedule better if I decide when I want to do it myself." he said, at which Hermione huffed a little, making him smile.

"Aside from that," he continued, "I'm not taking Astronomy, since, especially doing things our way, we're not yet a the level to bother ourselves with interstellar drifts and alignments. I'm not sure if our group would ever be able to do anything of the magnitude that would require to count those in."

Others nodded at that, remembering how surprised they were to find astronomy linked to branches of magic supposedly having nothing to do with the stars. It was staggering to find out that, when it came to wand-magic, even the energy coming to earth was taken into consideration to limit the strain on the caster. The fact that no one even mentioned it in the magical community really got them thinking.

"Ah, right. I also quit Potions," Harry added as an afterthought.

"What? Why?" Hermione sat upright instantly.

"Because I can do most of the potions with little water and things I have with me right now," Harry stated as a fact.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but after a moment of thought she shrugged with the 'Fair-enough' attitude behind it.

By now they all knew how magical community worked almost a thousand years ago, especially the link between wizards and the fauna and flora of the land. And Snape was right when he said in their first year that there is no stupid wand waving when it comes to potion brewing as they were taught it so far. He also should have mentioned that even a squib could do it. Mainly because of the fact that potion brewing as it was known today, had been invented by muggle apothecaries of the past.

At first, wandless magicians didn't even bother with keeping plants and animals, since they could make everything they needed by performing a ritual from the top of their head. The fact that magical plants grew where they lived was only a result of them staying in one place for long periods of time.

The picture of a hut with a garden full of herbs was from much, much later, when wizards noticed the ingenuity of muggles in finding magical plants that served their purpose. Even when they had no idea why that particular plant worked so well, when other, similar ones, failed miserably. Only then wizards thought of keeping a supply of herbs, in case they became ill and their magic failed them. It also was better if a person they treated could take some with them, instead of coming back every single day.

It was when wizards decided that wand magic is so much better – for various reasons – and there was no more source of remedies they relied on thus far, that they had to implement a new way. Only then did they look to muggle attempts at pharmacy, and, since they were aware of the connections between plants, they were able to take them over and perfect them quickly.

And so, even after hundreds of years, when muggle science took it's own path, wizards still relied on medieval methods. It was mainly the reason why a good Potions Master was such a rare person to find. With each and every plant being unique, it was only by years of practice and personal experience that one could judge the grade of the ingredients, and adapt the brewing process accordingly as to balance the flimsy magical energies into the desired state.

Meanwhile, Harry and his friends could simply pour water into a cup, add a substances to act as a medium, something to which energy could be transferred for the time being, and simply channel their own magic in quantities and form required to get the job done.

Given that, and the fact that they already learned how to make nearly every common potion or remedy, it wouldn't serve them any good if they studied how to make potions that only few could brew, and that were used even less often.

"Are you done?" Luna asked, giving Hermione an amused look. All she got in return was a confused stare, which only made everyone even more amused.

"So, why were you late in the first place?" Neville asked the question everyone wanted to know answer to from the start.

"Malfoy," Harry stated simply, like the whole meeting was another boring point on a long list of chores.

"Yeah, about that..." Rose said from the side, "Have you noticed how he's strolling around? Do you think he finally got what he wanted all this time and became-" she said, getting her voice lower and lower as she got to the point.

"Malfoy isn't a Death Eater," Harry interrupted her, "He's something much worse," he added.

"How do you know that?", "What do you mean?" were the two questions that followed his statement.

"I know it because... Well, you know," he said simply, rubbing his forearm where the mark was usually located. Others nodded, getting the point that he didn't sense the magic laced into it.

"And by saying that he's something much worse, I mean that he's and asshole,"

That statement made the girls gaping, and Neville to snort. The only person unaffected was Luna, who clearly made it her life's point to never be surprised by anything. Ever...

"How's that worse?" Rose asked for the group.

"Well, when you look at it, being a Death Eater is like stating 'I'm a problem'. No one likes them, and everyone want them gone. They are clearly something that should be done about. But being an asshole... Well, that depends. If one is doing everything to be unbearable, then eventually someone will snap at him. But most often than not people simply say 'There's no point arguing with him', 'Leave him be, it's how he is', or anything of the sort. The point is that even when it is a problem, it's a hidden one. A problem, but not a priority. And as much people say they don't have time or strength to deal with that crap, it's usually those small hindrances that play on our nerves."

Throughout it all, Harry didn't snarl or get angry in any way. His entire speech was done matter-of-factly, like a remark on the weather during a tea party. Seeing where things were going, Hermione had to ask.

"What did you do?"

A small smile creeping on his lips, Harry answered.

"Well, I was walking down the train..."

* * *

Harry was walking down the train, reading a message some first year gave him, when all of a sudden he collided with another person.

"Watch where you're going, Potter," he heard the familiar snarl.

"Malfoy," he nodded as a means of hello.

"It's Lord Malfoy now, and you should remember that," the blonde boy stated, extending his hand to show his ring, but in a manner nearly stating that he wanted it kissed.

"Well, then it's Lord Potter here, nice to meet you," Harry replied, waving king-style to the Slythering in front of him. There was no ring on his hand, since he didn't appreciate the gaudy piece of jewellery, but still thought that he should show a little high class in his behaviour.

Draco scowled at the Gryffindor's carefree behaviour, but before he could retaliated, Harry spoke again.

"You know what... I'm getting tired with the whole, you start it, I don't take you seriously, then you retaliate which only makes people laugh at you harder," being told that, Draco flushed, getting a little angry, "At first it was cute and all, but now we're adults. You know, Lordship and all..." Harry continued nevertheless. "I think it's high time we finished it once and for all," he added more seriously.

Malfoy, sensing the change in the tone used, stopped his first reply. "What do you mean?" he asked carefully.

"Well, let's play a game," Harry said, stepping a little closer, making Malfoy unconsciously make half a step back, and nearly trip over his own trunk.

"If I win, you leave me and my friends alone. You never appear near us again. If we're talking in a corridor, you take the trip around. And at times when you need to be in the same place, like in class, you keep quiet like you weren't there at all."

Malfoy's usual witty response to such a behaviour didn't come. As much he wanted to snap back, all he did was to swallow audibly. It was probably because it was the first time when Harry was serious around him... Deadly serious.

"On the other hand, if you manage to do what I ask, I'll be willing to not notice anything you do around me. Well, as long as it doesn't involve me personally..." Harry proposed, but in no way it appeared that Malfoy had any voice in the matter.

"And why do you think that I will agree to that?" Malfoy responded with a scowl.

"You remember that life-threatening situation some time ago? You know, Quidditch, dementors and all?" Harry asked with a nasty smile, making Draco go wide-eyed, and crushing any spine the Slytherin managed to build up to ask his previous question. "You see, I could simply tell you to, but instead I propose a solution. It all depends on you and how you play it out,"

"W-What..." Draco stammered.

"Easy enough. I need help doing something. You bring me one person willing to help," Harry stated .

"That's it?" Malfoy asked, scowling, since there had to be more to it.

"Sure. I said it was easy. You bring me one person willing to help, and it's done," the raven-haired boy said, extending his hand.

Malfoy hesitated for a moment, but reaching the decision that there really wasn't much to decide between being told and having a chance to get out, or even merit from a sticky situation, he grasped the other boy's hand.

"Good," Harry said with a smile, "So, by the power invested in me by... well, me," he stated, getting back to his jolly self, with Magie placing her hand on top of their hands to seal the deal, "Let the game begin,"

When their hands parted, a wave of energy went through Malfoy's body, leaving him staring at his hand and thinking if this was such a great idea long after Harry moved past him.

* * *

"That's it?" Hermione asked incredulously, "Malfoy has to ask for someone's help?"

"It is simple to us," Harry stated, looking out the window, "But I don't think it will be so easy to someone like Malfoy," he added, already slightly sorry about what was going to happen.

"So..." Neville said, breaking the silence after that ominous sentence, "What's the note about?"

"Note?" Harry asked, acting like he just heard about it.

"You said you were reading some kind of message, and that's why you bumped into Malfoy," Neville clarified.

"Ah, right," Harry said, taking it out of his pocket.

Seeing it, Neville only smiled and took another one addressed to him.

"You didn't get one?" Harry asked the girls, and they shook their heads. "Well, it seems we have a party to crash..." he added with a smile, and his friends to perk up.

* * *

"Harry, m'boy!" could be heard from the compartment C moments after he opened it. A glance around the table, and it was clear that they were all waiting for him, if the way Slughorn jumped up to greet him was any indication. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr Longbottom! And... you've brought friends."

The man lost some of his verve when, after Neville stepped into the compartment, he noticed that there were more people coming in.

"Let me guess that those aren't just regular friends, eh, Harry?" the man continued to cover his slip earlier on, "Girlfriends by chance?" he joked, a little, giving the boys a nudge on the shoulder. "All... three of them..." the man's smile faltered for the second time.

"Almost correct, sir," Harry replied just as animatedly, "Hermione's my girlfriend, and Luna is with Neville. They are the smartest witches that I've ever met. And this here is Rose," Harry pointed to the last member of their group, the girl sketching something on a piece of parchment, glancing at Slughorn from time to time.

But hearing the simple introduction Harry gave her, the little girl stopped whatever she was doing, and not so secretly thrusted her elbow into his ribcage.

"Well, Rose here is probably the most creative person alive," Harry said through gritted teeth, rubbing his ribs, but still with a smile on his face.

The venomous glare Rose was sending him faltered a little when she thought, then she shrugged and declared:

"I can work with that," while she handed the paper she was sketching on to Slughorn.

"Well, it is clearly a striking resemblance," the Potions Master stated, seeing a sketch of himself, "But... Oh, my!" his initial statement that it was nothing more than a picture changed to a mutter of wonder when the previously still picture of himself started moving, living through a fantastic story of helping a king with his marvellous potions, and being rewarded handsomely for it.

"And by the look of it it will be your fourth year now?" Horace asked, watching the girl standing in front of him.

"Yes sir," Rose answered simply.

"Very impressive, indeed," Slughorn muttered, "Clearly they are your very good friends, Harry" the man continued, and one could almost see him tallying the potential of the group in his mind. "Well, the more the merrier is what I always say," the man stated, returning to his jovial self, "Why don't we add couple of chairs more, hm?"

When, after some remodelling to accommodate the larger group, everyone were finally seated, Slughorn finally brought out the food, and started questioning everybody about their relatives he knew once upon a time. It was also the moment Harry's group was waiting for, and after couple communicative looks, they started their show.

"Now, you, Cormac," said Slughorn, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," said McLaggen. "We went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour — this was before he became Minister, obviously —"

"Ah, you know Bertie and-" Slughorn was repeating, clearly pleased with the news, when he was interrupted.

"I'm sorry, do you mean Bertie Higgs as in, author of the study on variations between magical plants in tropical jungles?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Why, yes!" Horace said with a smile, "You heard about him?" he replied with a question of his own.

"In fact, I read some of his articles. The observations he made allowed potion brewers to eliminate some very dangerous steps in their recipes, and replace them with, true, much longer ones, but ultimately more stable and reliable solutions." Hermione said like it was nothing.

"Why, young lady, you impre-" Slughorn was in the middle of a compliment when another voice interrupted him.

"Sure, but it wouldn't be if not for Marcus Sweetwater, who studied how each ingridient reacts with a solution that is already magically charged," Neville interupted from his place. "Without his work brewers around the world wouldn't have basis to implement Higgs' observations,"

"That's a very good po-" Horace tried again, and was interrupted once more.

"Wasn't it Oswald Penini who first combined their work to stabilise the procedures?" Luna was next to ask. "Shouldn't he be the one to get the credit for making the brewing of more complicated solutions much more easier and safer? As valuable those separate studies, only his work showed their true potential."

Slughorn wasn't even able to open his mouth this time, since another person took voice.

"You could say that, but only if there wouldn't be anyone else working on it." Rose interjected "Say, Brutus Sindler. Brewers always try to make their recipes perfect, Penini was simply the first one to find a solution that could be implemented in various potions, and not only his own,"

"What you all forget about is..." Harry started, from the looks of it forgetting that Slughorn was even there.

And so it went, with the five of them sharing facts over multitude of topics when the initial one gave way to another that was more interesting. Other people their age quickly tuned them out, but Slughorn forgot about his attempt to learn who was close with his famous relative, and now tried to precisely mesure just how smart those kids in front of him were. The speed and amount of information they exchanged quickly made his head spin.

But what he didn't know was that the group was simply playing one of their games. Each and every one of them had a sentence of their own, like Harry's "What you forget about is..." or Neville's "But it wouldn't be if...". The point of the game was to use them as many times possible, quoting a fact they were aware of. Form of a reply simply guaranteed that no one would be constantly in control. The one who used his most, give of course that the fact they used were true, would win.

So, while Slughorn tried to keep up with them, all they really did was to think of another interesting thing they knew on the subject while they kept the score.

Soon enough, the message that they were nearing Hogsmade station came from the speakers, and their game had to be interrupted. Slughorn immediately jumped to thank them for such a wonderful time, not really paying attention to others who simply left. With a promise of future meetings the group also left.

"Harry," Hermione asked when they were back in their compartment, "Tell me again why we're going to spend our time with that man? Especially since the only thing that he was able to do was to gawk at us..." she added with a grimace.

"When Umbridge was around, she clearly proved that having a teacher who will let you do things without raising questions is handy," he replied with a shrug.

Hermione threw him an "And?" look when he stopped.

"Well, looking how from all the new teachers we had so far only Professor Lupin was competent, I guess it wouldn't hurt to stick around and watch what the man is up to," he added with a smile at which Hermione just shook her head.

"How about we invite him to play with us next time?" Luna proposed.

"Do you think he would get that it's just for fun?" Rose asked back.

"No, not really..." Luna replied, "I think he has that strange idea that everything is meant to produce profit,"

"And that's exactly why you shouldn't bother explaining to him that you can go through an entire encyclopaedia just to have fun," Rose answered her initial question.

"Well, if you put it that way..." Harry stated, which only made them all laugh.


	80. Chapter 80

While filing any kind of official documents I can't write Author in the profession column.

* * *

The next day schedules were handed out, with classes starting immediately afterwards. And as much people wanted to follow the old routine, that day showed that things had really changed. The closer one was to Harry Potter throughout the day, the more they saw it. It all started at the breakfast.

"Potter, Potter..." Professor McGonagall muttered while she scanned her list when it was his turn. When she finally found his schedule she paused for a moment while reading it, her gaze flickering to him couple of times.

"Are you aware, Potter, that you're the only sixth year to take Care of Magical Creatures?" she asked, picking this point to start the discussion about the peculiar set of classes presented on the parchment. Even more so if one took into consideration boy's OWL scores.

"I heard that many students thought it to be unnecessary for their future career, but I never thought I would be the only one to take it," Harry replied, finally receiving parchment with his timetable.

"I also noticed that you didn't sign up for Potions this year," Minerva continued.

"Well, seeing as they're at the exact same time Care is, I think that even if I did, I still would have to quit," Harry replied seriously. It was common knowledge that no one ever before said that Care is more important than Potions. More interestingly, no one ever used that fact, even if only to joke around, and it showed.

McGonagall stood there, gazing at Harry, and it was painfully clear that she was thinking of a way to reply to that statement, but even as seconds ticked away, she ended with nothing. Next to Harry, Hermione snorted into her cup of tea. As much as it was annoying when he did the same to her, she appreciated those moments when he did it to others when she was around. By now she was used to the fact that it amused her when other people were thrown off balance by such a simple thing.

Only after much soul-searching, Hermione could honestly admit that it was that quality that made her annoyed in the past whenever Luna , and partly Harry himself, were concerned. That fact that no matter what happened, they simply refused to be bothered with it. When other people tripped and stumbled, for those two it was like a song change, where they only adjusted their steps to the beat and continued to have the time of their lives. Now that she understood it, the fact that it was her opinion that spoiled her day, she could get over it, and see thing their way. And it was a much funnier picture than before.

"Right..." Minerva finally muttered, flipping the pages she held in her hand to hide the fact that she didn't knew what to do in this situation, "Carry on then," she added before leaving.

"You know," Hermione said to him when their Transfiguration teacher left, "It isn't nice to traumatize people wherever you go,"

"Is it really my fault that no one really notices when I'm joking and when I'm not?" Harry asked.

"You mean, there are times when you are serious?" Hermione asked, and seeing how he straightened to give his reply, "And no Sirius jokes, please," she added, and laughed when she noticed how he slumped in defeat. "Well?"

"Of course there are times when I'm serious," Harry declared.

"Then give me one topic you've never joked about," Hermione challenged.

"Comedy," was Harrys immediate response, which only made her roll her eyes. "What?" he asked, noticing her reaction. "I'm being honest here. Comedy is serious business to me," he stated wholeheartedly, even as she gathered her things, "Remember it Hermione, don't ever joke about comedy!" he shouted as she left the Great Hall, not sparing him another glance.

On the other hand, all the people having breakfast looked at him, clearly annoyed about all the commotion.

"Oh. Hi guys," Harry started, like he only just now noticed his audience, "Did you hear this joke about a kneezle and a dwarf..." he stopped, as people just shook their heads and returned to their conversations.

And it actually made him smile. Because it was the first time when people didn't mutter or whisper about another thing that happened in the castle, which was inevitable before, even after a thing as small as this, but simply returned to their conversations that just got interupted.

* * *

"We got so much homework for Runes," Hermione said anxiously couple of hours later, when Harry and Neville joined her in front of the DADA classroom, "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations , and I've got to read these by Wednesday!" she continued, pointing to an armful of heavy books.

"And how much will you remember from it?" Harry asked, eyeing the tomes.

Hermione didn't reply, simply looked at the books she was holding with a critical eye.

"I mean, it's something like a thousand, or a thousand and a half pages from what I can see," Harry continued. "Even with your memory, you would need to really focus to be able to recall all those informations. Seeing as we have other classes to include in that time, the best you can hope for is to remember where particular parts are. Then you still would need to constantly have the books at hand for it to be useful,"

"Then you say I should do it your way?" Hermione replied, "Quit the course and do it in my free time? But, Harry, people can't learn everything on their own. Just look at all the people failing the OWLs even when they were revising so much," she countered.

"Actually, everyone can learn everything they want," Harry replied with a smile, "The problem with the picture is that each and every person learn different things at a different rate. That's what spoils the schools as they are now. On each specific topic you have a limited amount of time. People who will understand it in that time, are fine. Everyone else is simply dragged along, and treated as if it was their own fault for not working hard enough."

"But sometimes, no matter how much work you will do, it still isn't enough," Neville said, seeing where Harry was going with this. "Like if you would put a ten year old child to compete in that Olympic competition you told me about. As much hard work that kid would to to prepare, there isn't much hope that person that young won't be last. Not because something was wrong, but because a body so young isn't ready yet for this kind competition. But it doesn't change the fact that in time, as it would mature and grow, there is always a chance it will be a great athlete. Sometimes rushing things does more damage than good."

"Exactly," Harry agreed, "Given enough time, everyone can learn everything. Of course, like with everything, there are ways to deal with that problem, and make the time needed to learn something much, much shorter."

"Like making studying fun," Hermione repeated something which could be a motto of their study group.

"Neville, what do you think every kid could be interested about?" Harry asked, seeing that his friend gained interest in muggle world.

"Dinosaurs," the boy replied instantly, very intrigued by the concept of extinct species.

"So, you have species of dinosaurs evolving all over the world. Different kinds living in different places. Then they die and are buried miles under the surface of the earth... And while you think you're learning so much about one topic-"

"Along the way you learn Biology which lets you explain how evolution progressed, Geography to point specific locations where different skeletons were found, History, since you need to know how to place all of those changes in time, and that last thing would have to be Geology, with all the things happening that resulted with those bones being so deep down." Hermione summed up.

"That's another thing school doesn't do because it doesn't have enough money, time, teachers at hand or even general idea how something like that could be organised," Harry shrugged, pushing the subject further. "Expecting that you can explain a thing in one way to a bunch of kids, and that they will understand it in the same amount of time is ridiculous. Calling them stupid afterwards doesn't really help."

"But you say kid this, kid that," Neville interjected, "We're not kinds-"

"No, we're not," Hermione interrupted, "But Harry has a point in saying that if a young person is discouraged from learning, in any way, then it's doubtful that they will enjoy it an adult,"

"And in that way, each and every generation is killing more and more the one thing that is necessary. Because, seriously, schools and universities aren't needed when-"

"People are willing to learn on their own," Neville and Hermione chorused, finishing it for him.

"The problem with this perfect picture you shown us is that people don't want to learn," Hermione said after a while.

"More exactly, they don't need to," Harry replied at once, making his friends frown in thought.

"What do you mean?" Neville asked.

"Well, wizards who can have everything after a swish of a wand... How many adult wizards that are not professors do you know, which know exactly how each and every spell they use work? It should be easy, seeing as they've learned it all just like we are learning now,"

Hermione and Neville both thought about it, but didn't say anything, knowing that it was meant to show them where he was going with this.

"Obviously, there are few of them, if you count out those studying magical theory. Even without that understanding, the wand waving still work," Harry continued. "But currently, muggle world isn't so far behind. There are scores of people interested only in their own comfort, and noticing all the appliances they use only when they stop working. Then it's as simple as to call someone to fix it, or get a new one entirely," he stated, waiting a moment to let the picture sink in.

"What I really mean by that is that I can mention dozens of examples of people living in poverty, who in the end became famous and rich because of a ground-breaking invention they designed. On the other hand, I really can't think of a person who inherited an empire and still managed to be famous for something other than that fact. The truth is that being in a comfortable position rarely makes people try to make things even better. That's why I hate complaining. It is a luxury for rich people who have to voice how displeased they are over a matter not important enough to do something about it." Harry muttered, grimacing.

"Then you say that people don't need schools or teachers, all they need are problems?" Neville asked to make sure.

"Yeah. If you put a person into a troublesome situation, it clearly shows how stupid they are if they simply try to ignore it and continue as if nothing happened. But pretty much everyone will try, as best as they can, to solve it. Given that they have books or manuals on the topic, it's safe to assume that they'll learn as much as they can about it – probably after their first, intuitive solutions fail. Then when they've patched the problem, they'll start to work on the details, since, given their newly acquired knowledge, they'll see all those flaws they haven't before. By the end, when they finish their 'project', they will be fully certified experts in that particular field. Not because someone told them to, but because they_ had_ to learn to deal with the problem." Harry said, looking somewhere far away.

"That's actually how things should progress. Instead of having to deal with twenty or so years of theory, counting from kinder-garden to when you gain your degree, people should be made to spend as much time possible doing things. Playing, experimenting, having summer jobs. Theory should be an addition to practical experience, not the other way around. Only after couple decades of doing what that person actually likes to do, they should go to an university and share their knowledge with other professionals. That combined knowledge then should be made available to kids, for them to further it still..."

Unfortunately, that was the end of their conversation. The door to the classroom they were standing in front of opened, revealing Snape.

"Inside," he said simply, before disappearing inside.

The classroom itself changed to accommodate the new teacher. Still, it was quickly forgotten when people saw the changes in the teacher himself.

"Do not take out your books," the man warned when the scraping of chairs ceased, and ringing of clasps filled the room, "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention," he added, finally sorting the papers on his desk and putting them into a drawer, after which he turned to face the class.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible..."

His way of speaking worked still in this new setting, and even after that pause stretched, the students sat in their seats, silently waiting for the man to continue.

"But does any of you know why is that?" he asked, and the students in the room blinked. Snape always appointed a person to answer his question. It was the first time he asked no one in particular, simply waiting for someone to answer.

"Because Dark Arts are wrong."

Immediately the room filled with laughter over the obvious thing Neville just said. The laughter died down as fast as it appeared, when everyone reminded themselves of the person standing at the front of the room. Everyone in the room expected that Snape would snap at such a statement, but instead:

"Care to explain, Longbottom?" Severus asked.

That made everyone stop, and do a double take on the situation. Especially when Neville started speaking without the usual hesitation or nervousness everyone identified with him.

"What I actually meant by that, sir, is that, in the past, wizards did extensive research to learn how exactly magic worked. During that time, they searched for solutions for every problem they encountered. Of course, it isn't so common to make everything perfect on the first try. That's why mistakes happened, and, for instance, instead of bone-mending spell, one got a bone-breaking curse, simply because arithmantical foundation of the spell was formulated on wrong assumptions. While it still happens, even nowadays, to make a spell do unexpected things by pronouncing it badly, the field that we call Dark Arts is defined by that original group of spells, which will do harm each and every time they're used. That's what I meant when I called them wrong. I guess better word would be incomplete or flawed." Neville added, wrapping up his answer.

"Fifteen points for Gryffindor, for Longbottom's knowledge about the origins of the Dark Arts," was Snape's reply.

If earlier the room was stunned, then that statement floored everyone present. It wasn't even because it was probably the first time Snape gave points to Gryffindor willingly, without other teacher's 'encouragement'. But because he did it so casually. Like it was a common practice to reward a prepared student. Well... it was. But no one saw Snape do it before.

"It is a fact," Snape continued not minding the lost looks in the eyes of most of the students, "that it is far easier to destroy, than it is to create. That's why changing only one thing in a spell can result in a completely new bread of curses, much more harmful than the ones you faced before. Your defenses must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo."

Given the schock they went through, students could be forgiven for not paying attention too closely. Fortunately, the class movet to practical part shortly afterwards, with students dividing into pairs and attempting nonverbal casting.

This was partly why Harry still continued all of his practicall classes. While other students tried to master the spell they were learning by making the wand pattern and pronunciation perfect, he sat there, trying hundreds of different ways to visualise the change. Others got varying results depending on how close to the perfect they were. He and his friends got varying results depending on what exactly they were thinking about.

Sixth year they welcomed with open arms. Non-verbal casting was something of a synonym to wandless casting. But even if they could do it perfectly, they had to take it slow as to not gain too much attention from the teachers.

So, while other people in the room attempted to limit the sound of their voice as much as they could, Harry, Hermione and Neville explained to their partners that it is better to concentrate on the magic and the effects one wanted to achieve. Instead of leaving the success to chance, it was better to take as much time needed, and then simply work on the speed.

And it worked, in more than one way. Throughout the duration of the class, Snape mainly corrected people who muttered or grunted their spells, making them take effect in all strange kinds of ways. Whenever he swept past the six students standing there like statues, he didn't even comment, seeing clearly the concentration etched on their faces.

It was then made clear why Snape hated Gryffindors. It wasn't because any house rivalry. It was because of that icon of a person wrapped in red and gold rushing into action without a previous thought. Simply said, the man hated idiots.

From that point people got the point that while in his class, if one was concentrated on the task and minded all the details, the slower rate of progress was still accepted. It was that stupid behaviour when a person tried to rush things that got on Snape's nerves.

* * *

The day of Harry's class with Hagrid arrived, and it was entirely different thing than what Harry thought it to be. For one, the gentle giant seemed to be happy to have time he could spend with Harry. But the more interesting thing was how the class was conducted.

Even in magical school, there was still much paperwork and money involved in running it. With a class of thirty students, Hagrid was given a budget to help him organise his class. That was the main reason why his students had such a rough time, since, given that kind of money, Hagrid immediately brought in all the species he, himself wanted to deal with.

But now, having only Harry in this particular year, the board declared that he won't get any budget at all, since the cost of preparing curriculum for the whole year was much greater than what one student's tution could pay. This uncommon situation didn't spoil Harry's, nor Hagrid's year. Well, if one didn't count all the the grumbling the gentle giant did on their first lesson.

Harry would have to say that that situation turned Care of Magical Creatures into his all time favourite class. With nothing better to do, Hagrid scheduled his Gamekeeper's duties for most of them to fall in the same time as Harry's class. For a whole year, for all purposes, Harry could be called Hagrid's apprentice.

With no more dangerous animals being shipped his way, Harry learned all the survival skills anyone could ever need. Hagrid taught him how to track game, and how to set snares in places visited mostly by the animals they were hunting. After only couple of weeks Harry became aware just how alive the Forbidden Forest was. All kinds of species that hid whenever a human entered the woods became more and more noticeable with each time they went. Harry's proficiency in moving n the undergrowth also helped to not scare them away.

But the most surprising thing was that, even with all the things he had seen and did, Harry still was amazed with all those things in this new world. And each and new visit he made, only deepened the feeling how small he was in comparison.

* * *

Gryffindors were ecstatic when one day they saw a piece of parchment hanging on the notice board, which stated that trials for the Quidditch team would happen on the very first weekend. The stadium was packed full when all students from that house came to watch the new team being selected, happy for the entertainment this early in the year.

The test deciding who was most suitable for what position, along with general skills on a broom were finished quickly. But what surprised everyone was that when everyone were on the ground again, Harry had another test prepared.

"Now that we have all the results, there is only one more thing to settle," Harry called to the crowd o tired and slightly out of breath students in Quidditch gear standing in front of him, "Picking the new captain."

That stopped everyone in their tracks.

"I thought you were the new captain," called someone from the back of the crowd, with a mutter of agreement following it.

"I was given the badge, yes," Harry replied, "But I don't feel that with all the things I'm busy with, I would be able to run the team properly. You see, being a captain isn't only about looking good on pictures and holding the trophy, but it also requires determination and skills. I talked about it with Professor McGonagall, and she agreed that it should no longer be a position given to people previously on the team, but should be placed just like any other position on the team. Meaning, that it will be decided by another test. Those who wish to participate, please step forward,"

Mutters broke out in the group and in the stands, with couple of people shuffling to the front. Harry noticed that Ron was one of the first to go for it. When it was clear that no one else would like to try, Harry nodded his head. After a wave of a wand, desks and chairs came flying from the shed, one for each person.

"You mean that it's a written test?" Harry heard, and turned to look at a grimacing McLagen.

"Sort of," he answered with a smile, showing that there was more to it, but not giving any hints.

"Then why can't we do it inside? It's bloody freezing and we were here for hours now," McLagen continued.

At that, Harry lost his smile, and regarded the boy with the gaze stating clearly that he was an idiot.

"As a captain, you're still on the team. The test is to show that even after all the exercise, stress and strain which can happen during a game, you will still be able to think on your feet and think of a way to help your team turn a loosing streak into a victory," Harry declared like it was the most obvious thing. "Actually, you should do this test while doing your rounds, but some called it pushing it too far," Harry added, his voice stating it for him that he didn't.

Seeing no more questions coming, he stepped closer to the desk closest to him.

"To find the best captain, this game was created," Harry said, and after another flick, a surface of the desk appeared as a projection, hovering for all to see above the pitch. The desk, as it appeared, had a perfect overview of a Quidditch pitch carved into it.

"Game?" a surprised mutter went through the crowd.

"Yes, a game. The rules are simple. Each and every participant will face a simulation of some regular, and some improvised plays," Harry started explaining, as he flicked his wand again, which made the presentation of the table to vanish, and in it's place, ghostly image of a pitch with two teams on it appeared. The players seemed to be frozen in place, like a paused recording.

"Your task is to devise a strategy which will allow you to beat the other team," he continued, sketching lines from circles representing the players. When he was done, he flicked his wand again, and the ghostly images started moving, playing out the tactic he had devised. It was just an example, and at his first try, his players were able to capture the Quafle and score.

"The task has two parts," Harry said, turning again to the group, "First is, like I already said, to devise strategies to pre-programmed plays. The second one, is to play a full fledged game against the other team. The system is adaptive, which means the longer you play, the more it learns, and the harder it is to beat. The score is counted depending the time it takes you to beat the game, and the ratio between plays that succeed and those that were blocked by your opponent," he finished, scanning those previously so eager.

"Any questions?" he said, and seeing none, "Then take your places,"

Of course, what he didn't tell them was that aside for measuring their ingenuity, the first part served as a basic information for the game to work upon. Something to fill the previously blank slate and let it know of the game type preferred by the person in front of the console.

For the next hour and a half, no matter the cold and the setting sun, the people in the stands cheered not one, but seven games of Quidditch played simultaneously, since each and every person had their game displayed above them. Harry sat with the twins, discussing this particular invention he created. Aside of it being a fantastic training device, they already thought of bringing it as a toy for children. Because, seriously, who wouldn't want to command his own Quidditch team? Especially when there would be an option to input data of the actual teams playing around the world.

It was so fortunate that they had such a willing group of testers to look for any kinds of glitches. Since, from the look of it, after people fighting for the position were done, everyone else wanted to try it too.

* * *

AN. Sorry for posting every other week, but I don't have much free time right now, and I don't know how long it will last.

And, yeah, in case it interests anyone (I haven't described it properly, I'm sorry). The second part of that test, the game, is played just like the first one. You have initial situation, and you must think of a way to play it to your advantage. The game is different only in the way that it's played from the start to the end. When you have the ball, you describe an offensive tactic. If it is a success, you score. If it isn't you're blocked, and you loose the ball. From those two, you play on the defence, since the other team has the ball. Let's say that you end the game when you reach a certain score, since snitch and seekers are a part of the game that's difficult to plan out.


	81. Chapter 81

I really don't know what went wrong, but even as the bell struck twelve I didn't change into J. K. Rowling...

* * *

For once in the history of the school, something alike peace filled the castle. Oh, there still was that craziness around, but the hostility and anger seemed to vanish more and more with every passing day.

The previous year was a good start, but it got to another level when Harry introduced his game. When only people caught wind that it could be played with two players, people quickly forgotten about chess as means of entertainment... or any other activity to be exact.

In couple of weeks time top players from every house surfaced, and even when every single student in the school played, those few who gained the title of the League were center of attention. It got outright bizzare when fanclubs started sprouting here and there.

But even teachers didn't mind that, since people no longer backed up people from their own house for the sake of it, but person who they thought to be genuely better. Just like the game itself evolved, so did the conversations about it, the players and strategies.

That was only the beginning. When people got used to this new thing, it didn't take long for them to talk about other topics as well, or do other things together. And in just couple of months, it was impossible to go into Great Hall and see the students eating meals at their own tables. Instead, with people mixing to join the conversation that interested them, it was hard to distinguish which table was meant for which house in the first place.

It seemed that, for the first time in a really long time, the colour of the uniform really didn't matter.

If only the same could be said about the outside world.

* * *

Wizarding world never really knew war.

Dumbledore went into habit of treating people as chess pieces, because previous encounters were just that. A chess game. Both sides made their moves slowly and with caution to inflict as much damage without suffering losses. It was mainly because magical community wasn't that big in the first place. Finding a group of wizards trained in combat was hard to say the least. For both sides.

That's why what was called The First War, was nothing of the like. Yes, there was voilence and death. But it never got far enough to stop citizens from going about their daily life. Because of the scarce resources, attacks happened at most two or three times per week. That gave both sides time to rest and plan the next move. It induced fear, true. But the conflict itself never truly touched the general population.

What became known as The First War was indeed game of chess. But at times not even that. A game of tag or hide-and-seek would be more suitable, with additional "You punched me harder" argument. With only few loyal Death Eaters at his side, Voldemort didn't aim to conquer the country. Instead, showing that he could do anything he could whenever he could was enough to satisfy his hunger for power.

But not anymore.

With the extensive recruiting both sides had done and a steady flow of wizards coming from other countries, it wasn't long before the conflict escalated. What started as the same old game everyone was used to, quickly changed to be something completely new.

At first both sides tried to overpower the other side with numbers. When it proved inefective, they were too far gone into it, and noticed only when it was too late that conflict they were used to couldn't be waged with so many units at once.

Then someone made an amazingly simple suggestion, which turned everything to the worst scenario possible. The idea was easy enough – if we can't stage large raids, then why not let an Aurors unit track a corresponding Death Eater group.

It revolutionized the way wizards thought. No longer the leaders were flooded with informations about every single thing, with only the most important or dangerous incidents being brought to their attention. It also simplified Aurors work, no longer having to wait for confirmations and orders how to proceed. Clearly, it worked... for a while.

What happened over the next few months threw Magical world into chaos. Yes, tracking the other side became easier. But it also made the whole conflict proceed faster. What earlier was a staged battle couple times a week turned into daily spats whenever two groups happened to run into eachother.

When Ministry noticed what was happening, it was already too late to stop it. Death Eaters seemed to have applied the same tactics to their side. Or rather, seeing that Voldemort wouldn't ever allow anyone to question him, it were only the new units brought in that decided that their survival was a priority.

It was more probable scenario, but also more frightening. Because while thugs and bandits ran rampart all over the country, being chased by every Auror Ministry could spare, Voldemort and his loyal servants were still out there, lurking in the smoke screen.

Magical community for the first time got their first taste of war. Battles were fought all around, destruction followed. But what was so different from all the other times they remembered, was that no one was truly in control.

* * *

Hermione hurried to the Room of Requirements where the rest of the gang already waited for their usual sesion of wandless magic. Even when they could make it happen whenever they wanted, the room was still the best place for them to train. It was no wonder. The room being the laboratory of Rowena Ravenclaw.

Taking a turn, Hermione stopped at the end of corridor, Watching Harry stand in front of the room. He was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, and running his hand against the smooth stone. When she finally moved and came closer, she noticed that he was humming something. It seemed to be his habit lately.

"Why you're not inside?" she asked, stopping right in front of him.

He cracked one eye open, and smiled slightly. She knew for certain that he noticed when she entered the corridor, but he still acted like he just woke up. It were those small things that always amazed her about him. Everyone thought he joked when he kept mentioning all those "acting lessons". But Harry was like that. He did things that were fun, and only in the longrun he came up with practical aplications for them.

Like with a simple thing like this. Some could be impressed how a carefree person being could suddenly be on top o his game in time of was, Harry always was on top of his game. He simply didn't make a big fuss about it.

"I just needed a quiet moment for myself," he answered after a while.

"Then what's with the humming?" Hermione asked. Partly to joke, but in part because she was truly interested what that was all about.

"It helps me think," Harry answered, tapping his temple with a finger, "You know, stay on track,"

She never really thought about how Harry thought about things. Well, yes, she thought about it a lot. But never about how having a town full of people wanting to be heard could affect your concentration.

"Coming?"

Harry's question brough her back from her own thoughts, and she smiled at the irony. Coming into the room, she immediately understood what he meant by "a quiet moment for myself". The room was a mess. All around there were all kinds of strange plants and animals. It could be taken as a jungle, if not for the cartoons chasing each other all over the walls and even ceiling.

"Finaly, you're here,"

They turned at the call and finally noticed the three ocupants, sitting on the couches in the middle of the room, behaving like all the madness around them was a daily occurence.

"What took you so long?" Rose continued. Position she was residing in was enough to prove just how long they were waiting. She was sitting on the floor, while Luna who was sitting on the couch right behind her braided her hair.

"What I really would like to know, is what you're planning to do about this," Neville said, folding the newest edition of the Daily Prophet and waving it for all to see.

"What do you mean, planning?" Harry asked back, totally confused.

"I mean, what are we going to do about it?" Nevilled pressed. He went so far from the way he used to be. From a boy who couldn't speak when a bully stood nearby to a man who couldn't stand when something bad was happening. Harry could say he was proud. But...

"And what would you like us to do?" he asked, taking a seat and patiently waiting for an answer.

"I don't know," Neville snapped. "Something," he tried. "Maybe..." he continued, less sure of what to say with every following word.

"That's what I meant when I asked what you meant by planning," Harry replied, "What would you like to plan if you don't even know what should be done," he stated, and after a moment of thought, "Truth be told, I don't make plans,"

That piece of information interested everyone greatly, and they stopped whatever they were doing.

"Ideas all so much more interesting,"

"Harry, ideas don't mean anything if you don't have the means to make them work," Hermione challenged.

"But that's just the beauty of it," he replied with a smile.

Seeing confusion on her face, he continued.

"You know that there isn't a plan that would survive first encounter with the enemy, right?" Harry asked, "Why do you think that is?"

"Because reality doesn't check with the predictions everyone made before the assault," Neville answered from his spot.

"Exactly. Predictions and assumptions, that's what spoils every single plan. When the first thing fails then everything that was previously set starts falling appart, the more the longer people try to follow the plan no matter what. But when you have a simple idea, the simple the better, like, get the King in every single game of chess,"

"Then you don't look at what you want there to be, what should be there..." Rose joined the conversation, "But instead you concentrate on what you have, and how can you use it to your advantage,"

"Exactly," Harry agreed with a nod, "That's the beauty of unformulated plans, of simple ideas. You have every single solution to pick from. Even if everything goes to head, you still can continue what you were doing. As long as you reach the goal, you win,"

"So, what would be best to deal with the situation?" Neville asked, returning to the original topic.

"For now, to do nothing," Harry answered simply.

"What do you mean, do nothing?" Neville snapped, clearly not happy with the idea.

"Just like I said before, if you don't know what has to be done, doing anything may do more harm than good," he repeated himself, although also not trhilled about the thought. "And five people can't exactly rush out and make everyone play nice. Even with our skills.

"But while we do nothing, the whole country-"

"How many Dark Marks have you seen over the past three months?" Harry asked, and it stopped the whole conversation. "That's right. Even if this isn't what we would all want, it's just common thugs having a good time. It serves no purpose whatsoever, aside being a distraction. But whie doing just that, it blinds not only the Ministry but Voldemort as well," he said, and added with a slight smile "I can tell you for certain that he isn't pleased at all with what's happening to _his_ country,"

"That's all good and well," Neville started again, but this time a little more calmly, "But the country is still in chaos,"

"Chaos is just a state of things, who said that it's bad by definition?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked, interupting her mental exercises.

"Well..." he started, thinking quickly about an example, "If you have a leaf falling off of a tree, you can follow it with your gaze, memorize it's path as it glides on the wind... But do the same for a whole tree full of leaves. Two trees. Every single one of them on the entire earth,"

"Then it's chaos," Hermione muttered, "So, you mean that chaos isn't something bad, because it's just something too big to be understood as a whole? Even when it only consists of something entirely basic?"

"Yes, that's exactly how I think about it. That's also why current state of things does such a fine job at stopping Voldemort from doing a move. A person like him, power hungry, would think that something he can't control, or even predict, is an atrocity."

"So, you think that that could be the power he knows not?" Luna finally took a voice, finishing her work with Rose's hair. "Your ability to feel at ease with unpredictable things, and skill at improvising whenever something new comes up?"

"I thought we were past that," Neville said, confused, "That we agreed that even if it is real, we won't understand it until it's too late to do anything,"

"Even if that's true, and we can't ever comprehend how exactly it will come true, there is still the matter of things that are needed for it to become true. Dark Lord, the one who will vanquish him, and the power he knows not..." Luna countered.

"That's actually a very good point," Hermione agreed, "Even if we can't think of ways how the whole thing will play out, we still can be on the lookout for the things that could play a major role. For instance, Voldemort's shortcomings. Even if it doesn't have anything to do with the prophecy, it still gives us the edge when fighting him. It's a win-win situation." she summed up, receiving a nod from Luna that that was exactly what she meant.

"But I always thought that it would be wandless magic," Rose interjected.

"I thought so too, for a while," Hermione admited, "But now that we know how to do it too, it wouldn't fit the _one_ who will vanquish him..." she left it hanging, leaving everyone else in thought.

"I don't know, and truth be told, I don't care," Harry said after a moment of silence, finally replying to Luna's question, "I wouldn't want to make any assumptions and get hur because of it. What I know for sure thought, is that we can do whatever is needed until such time that the destiny finally decide to reveal itself."

* * *

AN. A new chapter for a brand new year. Sorry it took so long. To not make it too short, I have some additional scenes I thought about in the meantime. I mean, it would be stupid to give Harry that dragon-protection and not use it even once.

* * *

Scene 1 – Harry after recieving the dragon scale from Charlie.

* * *

On his way back to the common room, Harry couldn't stop marveling at the mark formed on his forearm. And just like any other time he was pondering something, he didn't stay alone with his thoughts for long.

'And what got you so worked up this time?' Slytherin asked, appearing out of nowhere and makeing it look as if it was nothing more than a midnight stroll.

'I was just thinking,' Harry started, finally tearing his gaze from the mark on his arm, 'I've seen that this thing protects me from fire, but I was wondering how far that new magic coursing through my body can go,'

'It's commendable that you want to learn as much as you can about this new kind of magic...' Salazar said with a nod, before smiling slightly, 'But what exactly were you planning?' he asked with some amount of amusement.

'Oh, don't think that I'll just jump in and start burning myself with all kinds of things to check how much I can take,' Harry replied, knowing that Slytherin thought of something like that. 'Rather than that I was wondering how many kinds of magic this thing will help me improve. I have the protection, but does it go any further? Will it allow me to create fire, similar to a dragons-breath? Maybe even let me controll it at will...' Harry stopped his musings when he heard his mentor chuckle.

'Don't mind me,' Salazar said with a smile seeing that curious gaze coming his way, 'But I just have a hard time believing you'll become an elemental any time soon,'

'An elemental?' Harry asked with a frown, 'You mean a stone golem? Tornado, fire-storm or a living water?'

'Well, yes, they look like that... if you are stupid enough to enrage them,' Slytherin replied with a brief chuckle, 'But normally an elemenetal looks like any other wizard. At least, they used to. I don't know if any of them are still left.'

'Wait, if they're wizards, shouldn't they be called elementalists?' Harry asked, puzzled.

'No, they shouldn't. That's the distinctinction which you crossed. An elementalist is a wizard using element based spells. But even if you would become master elementalist, and used only one element your entire life, at the end of it all, you still wouldn't be anywhere close to an elemental. Can you guess why?' Slytherin asked back, giving Harry another one of his unusual challenges.

He thought about it for a while, before reaching the obvious answer.

'Because wizards use spells,' Harry spoke in the end, receiving a nod in return, 'Every time a wizard uses a spell to create fire, it's just that, a fire in the palm of his hand,'

'On the other hand, when an elemental creates fire, then the fire and the hand is one and the same. The reason why elementals are treated as spirits and not as humans, is because when a game becomes one, he becomes the embodiment of the element.' Salazar finished Harry's train of thought.

'So, you meant that all those tales of salamanders and...'

'You have an interesting animagus form yourself...' Slytherin answered with a smile, before the boy could finish his question.

'And you think I couldn't do it?' Harry asked, returning to the original comment the older man made.

'Oh, I guess you could, if you really tried,' Salazar answered thoughtfully, 'But I don't think you would really want to,'

'Why is that?' Harry iquired.

'Because becoming an elemental isn't so much about controling an element, but rather about serving it,' Slythering answered shortly.

'Serving?" Harry asked, not knowing what the older man walking beside him meant by that.

'Yes. When you think about it, the planet you're living on is a living organism. I mean, the planet itself, without counting any species residing on it. Rivers flow, carving deep canions in the ground. Then the earth rises again to form mountains. Lava flow to rebuild what had been eroded by water and wind... The reason why this planet is habbitable in the first place is because of this subtle balance between creative and destructive forces going on on the planet's surface. Looking from the planets perspective, a human life-time is like a blink of an eye. That's why it may seem that nothing ever changes. It's only when a sudden, rapid change occurs, that people take notice,'

'And that's where elementals came in?' Harry asked, receiving another nod.

'Only once I heard a story of a wizard living near to a mountain, which upon one day, started spouting clouds of smoke from the tip. Since poeple were afraid, he went to investigate. The mountain went to sleep again, but no one have seen him again. Instead, not long after, a fire monster started roaming nearby, raining fire on the land and leaving scorched earth in his tracks,' Salazar stopped to let it sink in.

'You mean that instead of an eruption of a volcano, that wizard took it upon himself to do the work?' Harry asked after a while.

'That's the idea. Nature is in constant movement, always at work to keep things going. Elementals were there as just another way to balance the system. A concious force of nature, meant to do what had to be done without all the destruction any other means would cause. That's why a great power was bestowed upon them. Nature has that thing where it protects it's champions.'

'And why do you think that they're all gone?' Harry asked his final question, coming near to the common room.

'Once, people didn't know what they were, and they were feared for their power. Especially when anyone came too close to the source of their power. But now, when humans can level a mountain or change the flow of a river... when they esentially became a new force at work on Earth... I don't know if existence of elementals became obsolete, or human race lost the grace of Mother Nature... Whichever it is, with people all around the world, nothing could do the necesarry work without destruction,'

* * *

Scene 2 – Harry with Griphook going for the Hufflepuff's cup after talk with Ragnok in his office.

* * *

It was deepest that Harry had ever went in Gringott. Vault's down here were scarcer and bigger in size. Also, the security was much, much tighter. He didn't have to ask about how many layers of spells were applied here, since every door he passes seemed to ratiate with power he could feel on his skin.

"We have to stop here," Griphook said at the end of the corridor.

Harry didn't even have the time to ask why, when a deep rumbling roar came their way. So, it was true that they kept dragons here, Harry thought to himself. He peaked just a bit, to see the mighty beast. Griphook, when he noticed it was terrified of the dragon spewing fire like he always did, whenever he sensed that something was close enough for him to hurt it. But instead, it calmed down somewhat, furiously sniffing the air. It was strange, but for a while it seemed confused.

"What is it doing?" Harry asked.

"I..." Griphook stammered, "I don't really know. It never behaved like this,"

Harry's brow furrowed for a while, and then he raised his hand, on which a scale like pattern seemingly tattoed into his skin could be clearly seen. Once he wondered what powers it could give him. In the end he decided that it couldn't do too much, since he haven't changed into dragon in any way. Now, it seemed that it did more than he gave it credit.

Even if it didn't change him, it was still there. And now he could see that it was something of an olive branch. A sign of good will. Dragons were territorial creatures, and stepping anywhere near of a nest was a near death experience at best. But this thing clearly showed that he helped a dragon, or simply that he had one's trust. In short, it was the ultimate "I mean you no harm" banner, whenever a dragon was concerned.

Making a quick decision, he stepped into the tunnel leading to the dragon's lair, showing now clearly terrified Griphook he should stay where he was. He stepped slowly and cautiously, one step at a time.

The dragon seemed to be as baffled as he was, laying there, confused about what was happening. Finally he reached the beast, and with a final mighty sniff, the old, blind dragon seemed to reach the decision that this thing standing before it was not a threat.

"Mr. Potter?" A silent voice reached him, tearing him from his thoughts. He didn't know how long he stood there, but finally he made his way back to the goblin he left behind.

"Is there somewhere near a really large cave or something like that?" was the question on his mind.

"Well..." Griphook thought quickly, "I think we could find something you have in mind, but why?"

"That dragon is old, tired, blind..." Harry started, and watched the metal instrument Griphook brought with him, "And I guess that is to make it believe you will hurt him if he does anything stuppid, which would add scarred all the time. No wonder he's pissed off," Harry finished, and saw goblin bow his head slightly. Clearly, no one ever said it like that.

"I just thought that you could let him fly from time to time," he stated his idea with a shrug. "But I guess we should get going,"

They went past the dragon without any incidents, with Harry's presence being enough to calm it.

Griphook got a new perspective on this human who he considered a friend. Earlier he thought that treating Goblins as equals was something profound. Only now he understood that it went even further than that. Harry Potter didn't distinguish between species. He only saw respect that one was due, and couldn't stand it one got less than he deserved.


	82. Chapter 82

If only I could tell you that I don't have much time to write because all of those interviews, parties and what not J. K. Rowlling have the pleasure to attend... But I can't. It's just me with my normal life stacking problems right on top of me.

* * *

The second session with Dumbledore came, during which he was about to share more memories concerning Voldemort's past. But even before Headmaster could offer his famed lemons to Harry, they had been interrupted.

"Dumbledore-" the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Schrimegour stopped cleaning his robes from the sooth, startled to see that person he came to see was occupied. When he noticed who was the other person in the room, he became even more so. "It seems I have interrupted something,"

The aged wizard turned his gaze from the Minister to Harry, and even though the raven-haired boy didn't tear his gaze away from the newcomer...

'Was that a smile just now?' Harry wondered when Albus turned back to his unannounced guest.

"It's quite alright, Minister," he started, getting up, "As a matter of fact I just remembered some things I forgot to attend to this evening. If you would be so kind as to keep young Harry company while I correct this oversight?"

Even though it was stated as a question, Dumbledore didn't wait for an answer, simply walking out of the room. And then there were the two of them left, and Harry kept watching, unblinkingly, how Minister strolled around the office.

Anyone else might think that the man was admiring all the artefacts in the room. But Harry knew that he was trying to find anything familiar. Something he could grasp and treat as a steady footing in this peculiar situation. Even a slight glance towards the Headmaster's seat was enough for Harry to know that he thought about sitting in it.

In the end Minister conjured his own armchair and finally took a seat.

"Marvellous, isn't it?" Rufus started, waving his hand in the direction of various instruments lining the shelves, "All of it," he added.

Not receiving no answer, he turned towards Harry, only to came face to face with that unwavering gaze. He was taken aback for a moment, grimacing slightly at the turn that the events were taking, but it didn't stop him from trying again.

"I've wanted to meet you for a very long time," said Scrimgeour, after a moment of silence. "Did you know that?"

"No," Harry answered simply, not giving the Minister anything to build the topic on. That, combined with the fact that that gaze was still steadily kept in place made the man squirm a little in his seat.

That always puzzled Harry. Why such a simple action was all that was needed to unbalance every single person. Even people who made a living by being in the centre of attention. But in the end, it wasn't about looking at someone. Watching them was what really scared the crap out of everyone. That steady gaze able to pick every single fault, drawback and scratch present at a seemingly perfect exterior.

Because, somewhere deep inside, everyone know that they aren't as perfect as they want to be. And being in the presence of someone who is willing to sit there and wait for that slip that had to come eventually made them sweat. And that in turn speeded the whole process greatly.

"Well, you should expect it. With all those stories out there..." Rufust tried to spike Harry's interest, leaving the sentence hanging.

"What kind of stories?" Harry's sharp question interrupted the silence. But it wasn't one of curiosity. It was a question of demand.

"You know... People talk..." Minister continued, desperately trying to hide just how uncomfortable he felt.

"I don't know," Harry replied, the tone from earlier still present, "Would you care to tell me about it, sir? And something about those people you mentioned if you'll be so kind. I don't believe I know any of them."

It was the first time that Harry spoke in a full sentence since the Minister arrived, but it did nothing to alleviate the older man's uneasiness. It only deepened it, because Harry sat there, clearly waiting for the explanation he asked for.

In the meantime, Harry though that people like him were probably the biggest thorn in the side of politics. And he didn't even need to do anything. The simple fact that he had that unique mentality was enough.

He could deal with the truth. He could deal with it even when it was the worst one possible, presented only in curse words. Nothing really mattered, as long as the information he received was true. Knowing that, he could prepare or plan.

Politicians on the other hand had that childish idea that when you present something in the right way, it won't be as bad as it really is. That's why they sugar-coat every single thing. Their victories were somewhat larger than they deserve. Their mistakes weren't as big as anyone would thought.

Harry would gladly listen to the Minister, go over his plan, take his arguments into count... if not for the fact that the man needed to play games with him. That told Harry all he needed to know about the deal. He wouldn't like it. More than that, he wouldn't agree to it.

He knew it now, even without hearing it out, but Scrimegour knew it from the start. And he instinctively felt the need to sell his idea by sugar-coating it. Presenting it way better than it was. Maybe it was because the idea in itself was crappy. Maybe it was because it was selfish, helping only the Minister himself. Whatever the reason, Harry wouldn't like it. But being a true politician, Rufus had to see it through. He had to sell the idea to the person who didn't want to do it in such a way, that they would do it in the end. If not...

"What do you want?" Harry broke the silence, during which the Minister watched him like if he belonged to a previously unknown species.

"Excuse me?" Minister scowled, being abruptly torn from his thoughts.

"You said you wanted to meet me for a while now. There had to be a reason for it, seeing how you're a very important person with lots of things constantly on your mind. I want to hear it," Harry stated, holding his gaze steady throughout the entire conversation.

There was another moment of silence during which Minister's demeanour changed completely. Gone was that pleasant smile, and left was only a harsh exterior. Finally, the politician was gone, and what was left was who Rufus Scrimegour really was – an auror commander who demanded results.

'There it is. Now we're getting somewhere,' Harry thought to himself, allowing a slight smile.

"With all the outbreaks, the morale hit the all time low. Now, I don't know if what people are telling is true. The things about the prophecy, a baby destined to stop the Dark Lord. But they certainly give it much thought, given the constant chatter. For them you sealed the deal with that Graveyard stunt you pulled off," here even the Minister stopped, watching the boy in front of him more carefully than was needed.

"That isn't really important. What is, is that you can make people's lives a little more manageable. If they would see that you're taking more active part in the war-"

"Not interested," Harry spoke suddenly, his tone alone being enough to know his decision was final.

"What?" Scrimegour snapped, getting angry. "There are human lives on the line here."

"We want the same thing," was the reply, "But we have a very different point of view when it comes to what exactly is a human life."

"What are you blabbering about?" Minister demanded, getting more angrier by the second.

"If you really want to know then..." Harry started, quickly thinking of his starting question, "Can you really promise me that what you're telling me, my presence at the Ministry, dancing in your palm, will be enough to tilt the scales of this conflict?"

That stopped Scrimegour in his tracks. Maybe it was because he was surprised tha Harry thought where the grand idea from before was going. Or maybe it was because the way he described made it sound worse than it was.

"Yes," he answered after a while.

"And you see, here starts the difference," Harry replied before the word even stopped ringing in the air, "There was no good answer to that. Not for you, not for me. To you, stating outright that you have a weakness is bad. It's a political suicide, like so many people like to say. But to me, the answer you gave me means you're just a jerk who will promise me anything as long as it gets him what he wants. Surely, if it was so simple to promise something and know for certain that it will come true, then you wouldn't be here right now. But since we don't have that kind of magic..." Harry finished with a shrug, putting his steady gaze back in place, watching Minister intently.

"Then what would you want us to do?" it was Scrimegour's turn to demand a solution.

"Change," came the reply, stated like it was the most obvious thing.

"Change?" Rufus repeated, confused. "Change what?"

"Everything," Harry said, looking towards the window. "But yourself in particular. We haven't done that in a long, long time..."

"Wha-" Scrimegour tried to ask, but that feeling that the boy wasn't there any more stopped him. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean, Minister," Harry started again, shaking his head to clear it off, and pinching the bridge of his nose, "is that we love our privileges. We love them so much that we make it our life's purpose to limit all the painful or uncomfortable situations to minimum. Our preferred means are to pass some additional laws for all of the world to see just how much better we are. Isn't it wonderful? All those laws out there to protect our rights," he finished sarcastically.

"But without the laws the world would in chaos," Scrimegour responded, outraged.

"Oh, wait. You mean just like it is now?" Harry asked, pinning the Minister with his gaze, and watching him visibly pale. "Tell me, where are your laws now? Where does it say in an auror manual that you should bring a schoolboy to entertain the crowds so you can have the time to mount your defences?" he demanded, and snorted at Scimegour's audible gulp.

"That's just it. Laws are anything more than just scraps of paper with writing on it only when you are willing to see them through. Just like money is anything but scraps of metal only when people acknowledge that they represent something. The lives you mentioned earlier are nothing when you don't take into account the things people have here," Harry said, tapping his temple with his finger, "The lives that I was talking about."

"Then what would you have us do?" asked Scrimegour, being torn between acknowledging what the boy was saying and sticking to his principles.

"I already told you. Change. For almost five hundred years now there wasn't anything that could be called a conflict in our community. And what have we achieved in that time? Nothing. Wizards still use medieval methods to achieve their means. Even clothes stayed relatively the same. And what with the quils. Five hundred years! Do you understand the time scale here? United States needed half of that to become a whole new society," Harry said, shaking his head.

"And here, with first real threat in our own country, in our own community, suddenly there is nothing you can do? People hide their heads into the sand and pry for a saviour to fall from the sky just to sacrifice himself for them, and the only thing you can think of is to manufacture them one."

"But people shouldn't suffer, they-" Scrimegour started, getting that old, tired look every leader has when he can't help his people.

"Oh yes, they should." Harry interrupted

"What?" Minister's head snapped up, his eyes wide at the bluntness of what he just heard.

"Also, not in the way you think. I'm not saying everyone should be whipped daily to be a better person. But they should understand that things you possess aren't the important thing. It's the sweat, blood and all the effort you put into gaining them that really matters. In the end, without pain we wouldn't have the pleasure of finally reaching our goal. And without the sacrifices we make, we wouldn't appreciate the things we gain. Ever. Not in a million years. Not even for a second. That's why people constantly want more. We eliminated all the major costs from our lives."

Minister sat there, thinking about he heard this evening. In a way, everything Potter said made sense. But on the other hand:

"Why do you dislike people so much?" he asked.

"I have my reasons, but I will tell you why I don't like you in particular. You barged in," Harry said offhandedly.

"What?" Rufus had to ask, caught off guard by such a reason.

"You barged in. Unannounced, uninvited – if the look on Headmaster's face was anything to go by. In itself you stated that you didn't came to talk. You came to demand. The hell with manners or people's privacy. You had every right because you had important agenda. It could be excused if there was an attack or a cataclysm coming. But you simply came in because you believed to be more important than anyone else. I guess you have more in common with Dark Lord than you think."

Throughout Harry's explanation it came to Scrimegour just how important that small of a thing really was, and he finally understood how it must have looked like. But that remark floored him.

"What?" he repeated his question from before, but this time it came as a whisper.

"But I guess you're even worse that Voldemort," Harry continued his thought. "He at least stands firmly on what he believes. He makes a statement with all the outrageous things he does that he will not budge. And I can at least respect him for that. But you, Minister? It is usual for a politician to pass new laws to allow himself more power, simply because they tell themselves that it's the only way. It is also usual to lie, intimidate, blackmail and what not. So, tell me. What is there left in you for me to respect?"

But it wasn't given for the Minister to reply to that. He didn't even had the time to recover from Harry's comparison before Headmaster came through the door.

One look at the scene and his feeling about how it would end was confirmed. Harry was sitting there like it was a calm sunday afternoon. Minister on the other hand was slumped in his chair, almost holding his head in his hands.

"I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long?" Albus asked, making his way towards his desk.

At the sudden call, Minister jumped to his feet.

"No...no," he said with a faint smile, mustering as much from the political mask as he could onto his face. "But I'll be going now,"

"But what about that important thing you came with?" Dumbledore asked, surprised at the sudden departure.

"It can wait," Rufus replied, "It can wait," he repeated, more to himself than anyone else, disappearing in a burst of green flames.

"Well now, Harry. I guess it's too late for us to get anything done tonight," Dumbledore said to his student after finally taking his seat.

"Do you know, Headmaster, that time is really something you can't make more of?" Harry started, with that mischievous glint in his eyes.

Headmaster's eyebrows rised at that, but after a moment, that slight smile from before came back onto his face.

"I guess, seeing how it's Saturday tomorrow, we can allow it this once," Albus replied, his eyes twinkling. "Now then, should we start?" he asked, reaching for the vial with the memories, and hoping that what he was about to show him will keep the boy's mind busy, even if only for a while.

* * *

At the first session with Dumbledore Harry was slightly overwhelmed over his own stupidity. Even though he recognised nearly every element of his mind-scape as a reference to something in the real world, he still failed to see that the strange hut in the back of his mind could be real. Especially since he knew for quite some time now that he shared that particular spot with the Dark Lord.

Now though, he watched carefully how the scenes from the past played out and had a lot of time to observe. And even though he knew where the story was at this point, he immediately spotted in the young Riddle things that would define the future plot.

Born without anyone who would care for him. Estranged by all the mysterious accidents happening around him. Treated indifferently, if not with suspicion, by his guardians. Never achieving a faintest bond with another human being. Those magic skills without any kind of schooling...

After only couple of minutes in the memory Harry could see similarities between him and the young boy. But there was one crucial difference in their development:

Magie.

It wasn't about the power, skills or even having the personification of your inner self standing right in front of you. It was simply about having someone you could talk to. That in itself was enough to create a gigantic split between Harry and Voldemort as they were now.

They both came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with the way they interacted with the world. That was when young Tom got the idea that, if the world doesn't acknowledge him no matter what skills he possesses or how he acts, then he shouldn't bother proving anything to anyone. In fact, he was better than all of them...

If Magie wouldn't appear when she did, Harry might have gone that road too, cutting himself from the world around him and treating it like if it was below him. Luckily she did appear and it allowed Harry to become the person he was now. Someone able to have a little distance and see things from different perspectives.

Unlike the Dark Lord. That man spent his entire life following that sense of superiority. That idea that if his father abandoned him, his mother didn't want him and the rest of the world didn't notice him, then he simply didn't need them. More than that. Since the world was pointless in the first place, but was still around and wouldn't simply leave, it was his to do as he pleased. Voldemort would rather burn the whole world to the ground than acknowledge that it had any sense without him in it.

In the place things were right now, it would be immensely hard to prove him otherwise. That's why Harry couldn't understand... Even when the staff in the orphanage, and Dumbledore right after he met him, knew instantly that there was something wrong with the boy, why no one did anything? In fact, there should be one thing every person experiences in their life that would be perfect for this kind of situation.

"May your wishes be granted" states one of what became to know Three Chinese curses. In a way, it truly is a curse. People throughout their lives follow that distant goal, some dream of theirs that can never be true.

But what happens when you make them happen? What everybody does when they find themselves at the end of the road, with everything they had to do done already...

Well, on one hand you just finished your life long goal. Congratulations... But what now? What do you do when the underlying cause for all your actions is removed in an instant. When you have to change all your habits because they're simply not needed any more. How fast can you change the person you were for so long?

Well, that's only if you make it through the first stage of this strange encounter. Denial. Nearly everyone when they come to the place they always dreamed of would simply pass it by. That's where "The grass is greener on the other side of the hill comes from". We have that strange habit of visualising things better than they are, and what we encouter never seems to be enough. For us, it's inconceivable that something that perfect can have even a slightest hindrance tied to it.

That's why every single person, at least once in their life should be given exactly what they want and when they want it. They should learn just how fast priorities change when you get everything you want. That life, in every single form you can imagine it, isn't about benefits. It's about challenges.

Just like game played on cheats quickly ends being boring, so is life when you have every single thing you can imagine.

That's why, if young Tom Riddle would be given complete control over every person in that orphanage, he would quickly learn that it didn't give him any more satisfaction than the life he lived so far. For a while he would be elated, true. But quickly enough that kick would wear off, and he would have to find something else to keep himself busy.

That was then. Now, though, it wouldn't be so easy to convince Voldemort that his attempts at world domination were futile. By the time he took control and then dealt with all the problems resulting from that there would be no one else alive to see him shrug his shoulders and say "In the hindsight, I guess it was kind of childish."

Funny thing was that if everyone would simply laid their arms and stated that he was to command them, he wouldn't believe it himself. He would become paranoid and look for any kind of trick, even if there wouldn't be one. In the end, he would make himself even more problems, only if to make things going.

But as it was now, the more the world refused to be controlled, the more it fuelled his frustration and anger at being opposed. And until that dream stayed out there, out of his reach, he still had a clear path to follow.

* * *

AN. Wasn't a month now, but still, three weeks without a chapter. This one is shorter than I would like to post, too. But don't worry. I just need to get back into the rhythm.


	83. Chapter 83

Do I really have to explain again how I'm not J. K. Rowling?

* * *

Some time before the Christmas, the gang found themselves surrounded by a crowd of very weird people. Well, they usually spent their time that way, being surrounded by things few would call common, but the group gathered at Slughorn's party was something else altogether. There were people from all kinds of businesses, stars of the wizarding world and even some closely tied to politics. It was so strange to watch them try to find a common ground. So much, that it lead to Hermione wondering:

"Harry, how exactly have we ended in here?" she asked, remembering too vividly when Slughorn caught up to them and attempted to sway Harry into coming to one of his dinners. That fantastic speech about how even though he wasn't continuing his potions studies, there was still much they could discuss in their private time.

Harry couldn't say that he would be at every single dinner. But imagine Slughon's surprise when Harry tells him out of a sudden how he will be there during all the major events. Not only that, but he would like to be the one to prepare everything. That surprised face slowly turning into an image of complete bliss still was the funniest thing Hermione saw. Or maybe she thought that only because she was sure they all had the very same when they heard that.

Still, Harry was adamant about that, and like always, he was right. Even though annoying at times, being under patronage of one of the teachers gave them a lot of leeway.

She stopped that train of thought because she remembered that she asked a question, and didn't receive an answer. Turning, she noticed that Harry wasn't exactly paying attention.

He, like always, was watching the crowd. His gaze stayed a little longer at his two friends. From everyone else's perspective they could be only described as weir and weirder, and all the gazes they received made it apparent that they were having a grand time making people around them uncomfortable. Harry shook his head at the two little blondes, and moved along.

Neville was doing fine as well, Harry noted when he noticed a large group of herbologists around him. And by their expressions alone, he could tell that Neville was telling them some very interesting things.

He smiled at that and watched people further along. He stopped again at the disinterested vampire standing in a shadowed corner. He sometimes considered how a talk with a real vampire would look like. Is the danger of approaching one outweighed by all the knowledge one could amass during such a long life. In this instance, it dind't, as that particular vampire seemed to be a little narcissistic and slightly offended that this whole crowd wasn't all over him.

A jab at his ribs reminded him of person standing right next to him, and with his best, carefree "Yes, dearest?" he turned to Hermione like if she just tapped him on the shoulder.

"I was just asking, why exactly are we here?" she repeated her question, playing along and speaking in that sweet, pleasant voice Harry used.

"To have fun, of course," he replied, sipping on his drink and once again sweeping the room with his gaze.

Hermione watched all the people too busy with talking about themselves to notice anything else for a while, but then turned right back to Harry.

"Do you have anything particular in mind? she asked.

"Observe," Harry replied immediately after her question, passing her his drink and vanishing in the crowd.

It took her a while to find him again, but then she noticed him under the wall that held all the pictures of famous people Slughorn managed to gather over the years. It was amazing how Harry could feign interest, or any other reaction imaginable for that matter. She watched him skim over all the faces for a while, but then something caught his eye.

He turned to get a closer look at the vase holding the flowers that stood at a table in one corner of the room. He moved his face closer, before quickly moving it back, after which he threw couple of glances left and right, probably trying to see if anyone caught it. But people around were far too busy to mind a plant in the corner, and seeing that, Harry visibly exhaled, probably happy for the luck. Then, with one last "Oh, well..." shrug, he stepped away from the plant and once again mingled with the crowd.

She tried to find where he had gone to this time, but instead she got a pleasant surprise when moments later he was right behind her, putting his arms around her and placing his chin on her shoulder.

"What was that all about?" was her question.

"Wait for it..." he whispered.

And sure enough, moments later Slughorn himself appeared where Harry had previously stood. For a moment he seemed to be fixing one of the pictures on the wall, but quickly enough his attention was on the simple plant in the corner of the room. He watched it from one side and then the other. Once he even extended his hand, but stopped himself, probably imagining something very bad. In the end, he called a house-elf, and and instant later, the plant was gone, exchanged for a small figure of a famous wizard.

The whole scene with a well educated professor trying to reach oh so serious decision of what to do with a simple plant was funny enough for Hermione to chuckle at. But in the end, she just had to know:

"So, what was wrong with the plant?"

"Absolutely nothing," Harry replied, making Hermione laugh.

"Why do you like playing with people's minds so much?" she asked, turning around and putting her own arms around him.

"Playing is just a side effect. All I'm really trying to do is to know them better," he answered like if it wasn't anything serious.

"You can do better than that," Hermione smiled at him.

"Well..." he started, moving them slowly to the rhythm of the music playing in the background. Even though no one else was dancing, it never stopped Harry before.

"People see the world. But they all see different worlds. Facts are facts, but they all can be interpreted differently. And ranging from person to person, conjecture of two facts can lead to extremely different opinions. Just because there are unlimited ways to argument it," Harry said, leading them in the thick crowd, even when people finally noticed what was happening, and attempted to make them some room.

"Then you're saying that most of the things people do isn't because of what is happening, but because of what they think is happening..." Hermione said, thinking out loud. "I guess that makes an ability to look straight into someone mind very useful,"

"I think of it as much more than very useful. If you understand why someone is doing something, you can make them act on it," Harry picked on, and got interrupted by Hermione.

"Like making Slughorn obsess over flowers?" she commented with a laugh.

"Well, sure," Harry grinned back. "Slughorn wants to make everything he does look perfect. If you hint to him that there's something even remotely wrong... You saw the result yourself. He'd much rather eliminate the whole thing altogether than investigate, and risk missing something again. But a thing like that is just one thing you can do with a person,"

"And the other would be?" Hermione asked, her interest spiking because she didn't knew what Harry meant.

"If someone is doing something, he has a reason for it. Even if it's an unspoken one. Even if that person isn't aware of it. It's still somewhere in there, behind all of it. Now, if you have a person doing something really bad, you don't have to punish them, lock them up or anything like that. All you need to do, is to eliminate that reason." Harry continued as they danced in the small circle that formed in the middle of the room, not minding other couples that joined them.

"Eliminate it?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes, that's all. If you eliminate that reason or make it non important, all those things that person did and would do in the future become meaningless. Literally. Without that crucial factor to influence their judgement, decisions they make would be totally different. Sometimes it's as easy as to talk with someone, telling them how you feel. But other times people are so blinded by the things they believe to be true that they'll just keep repeating one sentence like a mantra, perhaps thinking that if they repeated it over and over again it would become true. That's where influencing them to deal with certain things comes in. If you know how that person thinks, then you simply point them to a task unsolvable with their current state of mind, and leave them alone only when they finish it,"

"Then it's the choice between change or being bound to fail over and over again," Hermione finished his thought, "Doesn't seem like much of a choice,"

"No, it doesn't," he agreed just as the song ended.

Hearing the clapping that took place of the music that died down, Harry and Hermion noticed that much of the attention was on them. They thought that it was the perfect moment to get some fresh air, and went outside.

But on their way out they stopped when they heard an agrument going on in one of the unused classrooms.

"Is that-" Hermione tried to ask.

"Professor Snape and Draco Malfoy," Magie beat her to it.

They turned around to face her, and noticed that she lost her usual outfit and was wearing a dress of her own.

"They're having a conversation how Draco was unfocused, not himself or anything you want to call it, throughout the year so far," she continued, sipping on her drink and making it appear that she just left the party herself.

Hermione sometimes forgot why exactly Harry liked to play games so much – well, until Magie made her appearance.

"I guess he doesn't have it easy this year," Magie commented before wandering off.

"No, he doesn't," Harry commented with a tired sigh, before he started walking himself.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was not a happy student this year. But for the first time in a long time, he knew exactly why. And this time, it really was Potter's fault.

After that strange exchange on the train, he tried to play it down. Even forget about it. The problem with that was that he simply couldn't.

At first he would catch Potter staring at him. Not with hatred, nor with malice. As much as it infuriated Draco, it was patience in Potter's eyes that made him sure that this wasn't something he could laugh at. It wasn't something that will be blown over and could be forgotten. With a single glance Potter made him aware that he was willing to sit there and wait for Draco to complete his task.

That probably wasn't that bad in itself, but with it came that sense that he owed something. And to Potter of all the people. That he was the one failing some kind of a deadline. That he failed to accomplish a simple task like that. Saying it shortly, he hated the feeling.

So he tried. He tried everything he knew to get what he wanted. But one word from the way Potter formulated his request rang over and over in his mind. A _willing_ person.

Every single thing he could think of didn't work. Whatever magic was in that promise prevented him from even trying. He couldn't tell anyone to do it. Nor could he bribe or blackmail them. Even insulting anyone to the point where they did it to prove him wrong wouldn't work. All those things that worked so well for him so far simply were out of the question.

And for a short time he simply tried to make it work, without thinking about why it didn't. Only when his bag of tricks was empty it appeared to him. It wasn't verbalised or fully formed. But he got the sense why he was failing so terribly.

Telling someone to do something made them feel like they had to do it. If not, they would loose the good graces of the person who told them to do it. Bribery was just like work. Someone did something because they could gain because of it. Blackmail put pressure on the person, and infuriating them only made them want revenge.

He finally felt the difference of what he was doing and what Potter asked for. A willing person had to do it from their own free will. Willingness to do something had to come straight from them. His ways wouldn't work because he couldn't inflict that sense upon someone. It couldn't be manufactured, bought or tricked. It had to be genuine, and freely given. Simply said, it was something he never experienced before.

That undeveloped thought, that sense that no matter how hard he tried he would still fail scrapping at the back of his mind... That only made him rage. He cursed Potter's name for getting it into this thing. He cursed his parent's since they didn't teach him any better. He cursed Teachers for allowing it, and all the students in the school for simply living their lives. Finally, he could curse only himself, for allowing himself to fall for the obvious trap and getting himself into this whole mess.

But even that passed, and when he had ran out of curses he simply gave up. He finally saw the world as it was. Empty. Meaningless. Without a thing in it that would be valuable enough to bother yourself with picking it up.

Suddenly, he couldn't understand what his life until this point was all about. All those petty games from which he gained absolutely nothing. All those things, valuables. Completely worthless. Passing hands only to be discarded in the end. What was the point?

But even then it wouldn't leave him. That sense that someone expected something from him, and that he had a task to complete. And during those sleepless nights when he had all the time in the world to think, but no idea came to his head, there was one thing he thought about the most.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?

* * *

Third session with Dumbledore only made Harry sure that what he already deduced was true. By his teens Voldemort was already a person without a care for other people. He took what he wanted and gave nothing in return.

Yet, he was not stupid. He didn't reveal his true self. He worked slowly and diligently, gathering all the pieces he needed. But the games were not a sign of acknowledgement of other peoples rights. It was simply a sign of division he made in his mind.

There were those he found useful. Those that could do something for him more then once were left asleep as to what was really happening, since their ignorance could be proven useful. Those that simply had something he wanted ended a miserable fate. And then there were those who didn't have any purpose whatsoever.

Now the encounter in the graveyard made a lot more sense.

Harry wasn't surprised at all how Slughorn reworked his memory, given that the man would gladly erase any kind of mistake he had made in his life, if an opportunity for that would show itself.

That's why, when they emerged from the pensieve, Harry had only one question:

"What exactly are horcurxes, and how do they work, sir?"

Harry was sure that it was about the items he was collecting, but there wasn't a lot of information available about them. He had a sense that knowing the name wouldn't prove to be that much useful.

"Ah, Harry, that is the question," Dumbledore remarked, "I was trying to learn the very same thing, but beside the most basic information, not much survived through the dark ages, mostly lost and buried in the past," he answered, knowing that the boy wouldn't be satisfied with a limited answer. Even after that, he seemed to deflate visibly.

Harry knew that the old man in front of him will misinterpret his sigh. It probably looked like if he was let down by the answer. Well, truth be told, he was. But not in the way Dumbledore thought he was.

'Lost in the past'... Just how trivial argumentation had to be to make people notice that it was made up. Schoolbooks described how futile witch-burning were for real wizards. Whole magical communities survived the purges without ever being disturbed. Safe till the present time. Protected by magic.

And yet, in a single sweep, all those great magical artefacts and books were taken away. Books in numbers that would rival the Library of Alexandria gone without a trace, while the familial relics and trinkets were kept safe.

How could it be that people didn't notice that from all the supposed destruction medieval times brought, all that was truly lost was the knowledge of the past. That selectiveness in itself pointed do a purposeful actions. At that point, questions of who and why would accour. If only people wouldn't be so willing to sleepwalk throughout their entire life...

"At this point," Dumbledore continued his explanation, stopping Harry's internal deliberation, "as to not go into much detail, all I can really say is that it's a way to protect oneself from death. Wizard hides a piece of his soul, by means I'd rather not delve into, protecting it from the death's grasp-"

"Ultimately preventing himself from passing on to the afterlife," Harry finished.

"Precisely," Dumbledore nodded. He watched as they boy stayed pensive for a while, but other matters were still to be addressed. "Now, Harry," he said as to gain Harry's attention. "for the first time since these lessons started, I have homework for you,"

That clearly surprised Harry.

"The memory we just witnessed has clearly been tampered with. It will be your job to persuade Professor Slughorn to divulge the real memory-"

"Why?" was the the question that stopped Dumbledore, making him blink at the sudden interruption.

"Pardon?" Headmaster replied.

Harry knew right away that it would require unimaginable amount of luck and good fortune to get that memory, overcoming Slughorn's character and all the hindrances tied to it. The man could always change... but that would require time and no less amount of time.

"What I mean is, what kind of information are we looking for?" Harry explained what he mean earlier, "I'm sorry I interrupted, sir, but if you know exactly what you are looking for, there could be an easier way than to make Professor Slughorn open his mind to an unwelcome intrusion. What with all the effort he made to keep that memory hidden."

Dumbledore though about that for a moment, but then decided that Harry was right. Keeping the boy in the blind until his own worries were answered wouldn't be good for the young man. On the other hand, telling him from the start what was at stake would definitely make him try harder.

"From the speech given in the graveyard you supplied and from other means, I have reasons to believe that Tom Riddle went further than anyone else to prevent death from reaching him. Of course, it's one thing to know the method, but-"

"You're worried that he made more than one," Harry interrupted, and once again his guess was met with a surprised acknowledgement. "But you don't know just how many he had made,"

"Yes," Dumbledore said simply, slightly disturbed that facts he investigated over long periods of time were so easily guessed by the boy sitting in front of him.

"Six," Harry stated matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?" Headmaster asked, not realising that Harry just gave him the answer he was looking for.

"There are six objects holding Dark Lord's soul," Harry clarified, "Well, five, seeing how one of them is a snake," he added, scratching the back of his head.

Dumbledore's eyes widened at that, and he stared in bewildermentat the boy sitting in front of him. It was as if an oracle sat there, giving answers to the questions of the universe of the top of his head. Even though things like that were described in history, it just made it that much harder to believe something like that happened.

"Six?" Dumbledore could only repeat.

"Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuffs cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, that ring he took from his uncle and a notebook, something of a diary, he written in during his school years," Harry counted on his fingers, "That's five, and his pet snake I mentioned before,"

At the reference to Founder's relics Dumbledore instinctively glanced towards the vial he left for the following session. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The situation was too absurd even for him to respond to. On the outside he seemed pensive, but his mind was swirling with all the question and possibilities of an answer that he didn't know where to begin. Still, there was one that intrigued him the most.

"How can you be so certain?"

"To answer that, I'll have to ask you, sir, to use Legilimency to read my mind again," Harry replied.

The request surprised Dumbledore, but seeing that the boy was serious, he drew his wand and cast the spell.

Soon enough, he found himself once again in the amazing landscape of Harry's imagination. But unlike the previous time where the boy showed him a beautiful panorama of the city, this time they appeared on a too familiar gravel road, covered only in the last of the sun-rays of the sun that had just set.

He barely made sure that it was truly the same one, when he noticed Harry vanishing in a small hole in the hedges. Just like in the memory of the ministry worker, he was made to follow the silhouette on the darkened, uneven path.

Albus made his way swiftly, following this winding path more than once now, and quickly enough came to the hut hidden in the deep woods. To his surprise, there were lights shining through the small windows.

He made his way through the doors that were left ajar for him, and when he blinked away the white spots that appeared when his eyes were flooded by the bright lights, his surprise only deepened. The interior looked nothing like he saw it when he checked it as a possible location of a horcrux. This time it was clean, furnished, and even... homey. But what surprised him the most was the crib standing in the middle of the room.

"The things Professor Snape experienced during our lessons," Harry said comming right beside the Headmaster, even when the older man was still gazing at the room in front of him. "They weren't false memories I created to defend from his attacks. I discovered this long time ago, and the only proper term I can use for it is my mind. Literally. It's how my own thoughts represent themselves to a conciousness bend on observing the _real_ world," he explained, knowing for sure that even though Headmaster didn't look at him, he was taking in his every word.

"Everything out there makes sense to me, and only me. To anyone else it's a town, hill, tree like any else. At the same time, to me, they're all parts of a distant memory, fantasy, dream and what not. Everything..." Harry paused and that was enough to make Albus turn towards him, "except this,"

"But if it isn't your memory..." Dumbledore started, looking towards the strange picture hanging on the wall, looking more than boarded window than anything else.

"Yes," Harry nodded, knowing what the old man was thinking. "I said earlier that there were six objects holding Dark Lord's soul. While esentailly true, it isn't entirely correct. In fact, there are eight pieces of Voldemort's soul. Six in objects I described before. One residing in the construct serving as a temporary body..."

"And the last one?" Dumbledore asked when Harry didn't finish. He turned, only to see the boy smiling faintly.

"Is lying right there, in that crib," came the reply.

Even though he didn't want to believe it, Dumbledore came closer and peered over the edge of the crib. Instantly he took a step back, having only caught a glimpse of what was inside.

"No..." he muttered, "This can't be real."

From all the things he assumed and deduced over the years, even wildest speculations didn't come close to this. He came to terms with the fact that Harry Potter caried a piece of Tom Riddle's soul a long time ago, but to think that one day he would see it with his very eyes...

"Why can't this be real?"

A girls voice surprised him, and Albus turned to see a young woman standing in the kitchen. He had the feeling that she was there all along, but for some reason, he didn't notice her at all.

"Everything that exists has an effect on all the things in it's proximity," she said, not interupting her work in the kitchen. "One way or another, even the slightest change can be detected,"

"Best example is Voldemort himself," Harry said from over the table where he was laying plates for dinner, "His current form doesn't look anything like how he used to be. His resurrection could be responsible for that, but butchering his soul had to have it's toll on him,"

"Even if it can't be seen, it still can be felt or experienced," the girl from before took over once again, making Dumbledore's head spin slightly at their perfectly choreographed routine. "All those experiences and places people know, they're nothing more than electrical currents running rampart through their brain. With advanced enough technology even a computer generated environment could be more realistic than reality. So... why do you even think there are things that can't possibly be real? Tea?"

The young woman finally finished her work in the kitchen and turned with two cups in hand, handing one to the Headmaster as she was passing him by, with various dishes floating behind her. Albus was amazed at the rich aroma flowing from the cup to his nose.

"Thank you, Magie," Harry said when he received his cup, with the girl going to the crib and playing with the child lying there as if it was the cutest baby in existance.

"That's why, with a proper state of mind, everything can be completely tangible," Harry finished their speech after he sat at the table and started filling the plates, "Thoughts, ideas... Even souls and magic," he stated, pointing with his head towards the girl and the baby.

Dumbledore sat heavily at the place that was clearly left for him, the informations that Harry was pointing to landing on him like a ton of bricks. But by the time the dinner finished, he learned enough to trust Harry that he knew exactly how many horcruxes Voldemort made.

In fact, over the next hour he learned more about magic and the world he lived in than he ever dreamed to learn.

* * *

AN. Well, Dumbledore had to learn about Harry's skills one way or another. If he wouldn't, I wouldn't be able to describe the "Cave scene" the way I imagined it. So, this was as good place as any to do that.

I plan to post next chapter on this weekend. Sorry for the delay, but I hope that the "Dumbledore lessons" scenes I added here and in the previous chapter will be enough for you for now.


	84. Chapter 84

Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros. Entertainment, Scholastic Press, Bloomsbury Books, and other associates... what? I haven't used this one before.

* * *

AN. In two previous chapters I added one scene each. Just scroll to the last scene before the ANs to check if you've read them before reading this chapter.

* * *

On the train ride home Harry told his friends about his lesson with Dumbledore. They weren't too surprised by the newest events. Clearly they too understood the need to slowly reveal their presence to the magical community. The only really relevant question they asked was:

"Why do you think Dumbledore, a man many would call manipulative, is a good person to start with?"

Harry only smiled at that.

"If you mean a guy who keeps all the informations to his chest until he can understand what's the situation is all about... and even then don't reveal it until he sees it can be useful..." Harry stopped with a shrug.

They didn't question him further, understanding what he was all about, and the journey went by with only light conversation filling their time. But throughout this entire time, and even when he was once again in Sirius' home, something kept bothering him.

It wasn't possible that every single book and scroll from the past had been erased from existence. Even if was a deliberate doing, some families could simply keep quiet about contents of their studies. For instance, Olivander still kept his great-grandfather's journals.

The problem was that, if they were so good at hiding their presence in the past, then how was he supposed to find them now? Probably now they were even fewer than in the past. Or their children were entirely unaware of the treasures that ancestors left in their care. Looking for books themselves, treasure hunting all over the world for palces these people could ever be, was out of the question at this point in time.

So, how one finds people that don't even exist?

Harry stopped that thought, sitting upright on his bed. He couldn't find those kind of people. But he knew of one that, even with all the things wizards nowadays knew, simply shouldn't be able to live. He jumped to his feet and started pacing his bedroom. Even with a physical person to look for, the problem still stayed the same:

"How do I find _him_..." Harry muttered in frustration, having the answer so close, but still out of reach.

"Maybe I can be of service," a voice caught him of guard, and he swept the room with his gaze.

"My Lord," the same voice added, and Harry smiled at the figure of Walburga Black curtsying at him from one of the paintings.

* * *

Nicolas Flamel wasn't doing fine. He wasn't fine for quite some time now. The Elixir of Life kept him alive for most of his life. When it's inflow dwindled, the signs of old age it kept at bay thus far could be felt more and more with each passing day. He was aware that he agreed to let Dumbledore destroy the stone. Sometimes he just forgot why. He also remembered the day when his wife passed away, even if it was one of the things he wished his old age would push into the realm of oblivion.

His day's weren't filled with anything more than trying to recognise if he was in the waking world or in one of his memories. Thus, he wasn't concerned when a young couple entered his field of vision.

"Ah, I remember it, even if it was such a long time ago," he commented, looking at the young and handsome boy, with a lovely girl accompanying him. "If only those times-" he cut short his reminiscence, watching the couple carefully. His confusion was visibly marked on his face by a deep crease running through his forehead.

"You're no memory of mine," he stated firmly towards the boy, and then turned a shaky, bony hand towards the girl, "And you... you shouldn't even be _here_," he added, with the young girl bowing her head as a sign of understanding.

"We came here to make a request," the raven-haired boy reminding him so much of himself in his youth spoke, "To ask for a gift that should never be given," he continued, bowing in a way that only students of old ways practised, "Knowledge of immortality," he finished, not raising his eyes.

Nicolas was honestly impressed. The boy knew better than to look master in front of him in the eye. The whole charade with strolling into his home he worked so long to protect. The tongue of old times, the gestures, that girl... But as much he was convinced, his temper won over.

"immortality," he snarled from his bed, "Mere thought of it should be punished by death," he said with a cough, this sudden excitement unsettling his already fragile state. "Trust me, I know." He added a little more calmly, "It's unreasonable. People don't know what they ask for when they pray for 'just a little more time.' If they knew the price, they would dread such a fate..." he stopped his rant to calm his raspy breath.

"Kids..." he spoke the word softly, as if speaking while during a sleep. "Such a luxury..." he murmured, "Such an understated miracle. An unappreciated gift..." he kept saying as if the thought wouldn't leave him even in his dreams.

The boy and the girl simply waited the whole time, not moving from their spots. As much as they wanted to do something, there wasn't anything to be done. And there was only one trait known to them that would help to speed things along.

Patience.

"But an unconditional immortality is impossible. Balance has to be kept," his voice was stronger again, as if he had just been roused from a deep sleep. "Tell me, what is the oldest vampire you would know about?"

He wasn't expecting any answer, and no answer was given to him. The boy maintaining his stoic poise no matter what.

The question itself was a trick. The vampires were a mystery, even when wizards first became aware of their prowess. They were something ancient, born in the times when people made sacrifices to the gods, and rivers of blood flown steadily through the lands of the Earth. It wasn't to say that Vampires weren't born from magic, they probably were. But they were simply too old for anyone to know for sure, even vampires themselves.

"Five hundred years, I tell you, no more than that," the old man gave an answer to the question he himself asked. "Vampires are perfect example of how an immortal race behaves. They are few in numbers. They keep to themselves. Larger numbers mean more mouths to feed. More tracks to hide and a larger group to relocate when it all goes pear shaped..." he said as if he was once again a teacher in his youth, given a lecture to an unruly student. He stopped when he remember what exactly was the topic.

"But there is the more important reason why you won't see a really ancient vampire," he continued in a grave voice. "It is not hard to live a long life. It's so much harder to be able to live with yourself after you acquire it. To live with the shame of all the things you have to do to simply stay alive. To continue this cursed charade."

For the first time, Nicolas torn his gaze from the youth in front of him, instead choosing to look elsewhere. It wasn't about being unable to face someone. Nor was it about looking into the distance to remind himself of the past. It was simply because the matters discussed were neither here nor there.

"Some decide to take this new life in stride, enjoying all the merits of this new existence. Others wallow in self pity, considering all the drawbacks of the situation. But no one can outrun the truth, showing just how deep the lies they drown themselves in go..." he cut off, shaking his head to clear it off from one of his more vivid memories.

"That's why after some time, there is always that moment when a vampire goes to sleep, and never wakes up," he stated, returning to his original question. "They don't die. They can't do that from their own free will. They simply choose to be no more..." he said, almost mournfully. "Five hundred years, I tell you," he repeated, proving that indeed it held a deeper meaning.

"Circe, has it really been that long?" he suddenly realised. "Have I really lived so many years?" the man's eyes widened, as if he only now became aware of the fact. His gaze drifted to the empty spot beside him, "Perenell, my sweet," he said, caressing the untouched pillow, even though he could barely move his hand. "Thank you," he added in a whisper. "It won't be long now before we see each other again," was the assurance he gave more to himself than to anyone else.

"Pain," he said, reminding himself of the people – person he corrected himself – sitting in his bedroom."You think of phoenixes as mighty creatures, don't you?" he asked, giving a raspy laugh. "Oh, how sadly mistaken you are," he added, as if his reaction to his own question wasn't enough.

But the young boy remained unmoved. He acted as a dutiful student should, taking all that came with the lesson he was given. Scorn and praise alike. He remained focused and sharp, paying attention to his teacher and everything he said. No matter what form the wisdom shared had taken.

"They are eternal beings because they were gifted with the heaviest burden there is. The spark of life," Nicolas marshalled on. "All living things have it, true. But phoenixes possess it in such quantities, that they cannot die,"

"Immortality," he snorted at the word, "it isn't as sweet as anyone may think. Just think about it. Phoenixes are born from their ashes. They grow, then they grow old and die," he stated simply, drawing a circle with his bony finger.

"But in that instant where their light dims and it seems they will pass on, that spark is still there, and they're revived. They live again. A life played in a loop," he stated, swirling his finger over and over again.

"Mighty? Yes, they are," he stated without conviction, "but only when they are fully grown. Other than that, they're either helpless chicks, or old roosters burdened with all traits of their age. All that pain, all that suffering and experienced throughout infinite amount of time.. That's why they cry, you know..." he commented with a sad smile, and sighed. "We all pay our price..."

The man looked over the young boy sitting in front of him. He even acknowledged existence of the girl for the first time since he reprimand her. Then he averted his eyes towards the window, not really seeing the image beyond it.

"I was young once, so very long ago," he started, and it seemed that this was the thing he truly wanted to talk about.

"I was very sick. A sickness with no cure, as it seemed... My family made sure to explore every possibility, but there simply wasn't any hope..." he commented with a tired shake of his head, before his features hardened.

"They didn't let go. They refused to let go. Instead, they did something unthinkable..." he spat. Was it because of anger? Or wast it because a choice he didn't wish for was pushed onto him... That he was the one that had to live to regret it. Even now he wasn't sure which it was.

"Everyone that want the stone seek it because they believe that it will give them something. Life, gold..." Nicolas sighed again. "They don't understand," he repeated with urgency, as if it was the most important thing in the world.

"They don't know that balance must be kept. That you must sacrifice something if you wish to gain something of equal value," he said, trying to explain, while refusing to approach the truth. He was childish. Even at his age he was just that.

"My family sacrificed everything," he whispered, finally admitting something that bothered him for a really long time. "Everyone I knew and loved gone, just like that," he stated, raising his open hand up, and watching something carried away by an invisible wind.

"You have a purpose in this world," he said without conviction, lowering his hand and staring at it as if it was useless, "that's what they always repeated. I waited, looked and searched for it, but I still do not understand what they meant," he admitted, closing his eyes in defeat.

"It doesn't change the fact that, in an instant, everyone I ever loved were taken away from me. I was left alive and entirely unharmed, but also completely alone. Well, if you don't count in that piece of rock that would keep me company for all those years," Nicolas said, his nose wrinkling in disgust at a mere thought of the item.

I couldn't simply refuse their wishes. Their dying wishes. So I lived. Took one breath after the other... I lived for a very long time... I wonder. Was that my price? Living a long life while wishing to join my loved ones. Or is it a curious twist of fate, that I lived so long..." he stopped to look at the boy sitting in front of him. "Lived all that time to simply to meet you?" he asked, gracing the young girl with the same level of curiosity.

The two reminders of the past didn't move. They remained in supplication, awaiting the masters decision when it came to their request.

"I guess it doesn't matter now," he stated with finality. "I'm at the end of my road, and you're the first, and only one who came to me and knew exactly how to ask."

After his statement, Nicolas closed his eyes in concentration, doing something he haven't practised in quite a while. He moved his fingers through the empty air, as if he was playing an invisible harp. In a seemingly empty space on the wall a simple vault opened. The simplicity of it's hiding place deceiving because it was constructed in such a way that if he wouldn't open it, there wouldn't ever be another person able to do it.

From within, couple of old and worn out books floated towards him, and he quickly gave them to to the boy in front of him. But when they firmly in the young man's hands, he reached his old bony hand to firmly grab his forearm, "They're yours, but..." he started, mustering all the strength he possessed to give this final advice.

But when he looked into the eyes of the boy, he noticed it. The wisdom, understanding and responsibility outweighing anything one could ever dream of in a person so young.

In the end, a simple nod was enough reassure him, and he dropped onto his pillows once again. The young man stored the books, but didn't leave his side. Nevertheless, Nicolas' attention was on the young girl accompanying the boy, who was walking towards him.

When she came to his side, sitting on the bed, and she brushed his hair from his forehead, he was glad that the strange couple sought him out. When she placed a gentle kiss on his temple he couldn't be more happy. He wasn't ready to die right there and then, and probably would never be. That's why he couldn't find the words of gratitude for what she did for him.

To be able to put the past away. To have all the times he ran away from trouble rather than help people swept away by that simple act of forgiveness from one of _their_ kind...

He couldn't feel the pressure on his bed any more, and he opened his eyes just enough to see them leaving as silently as they came. Leaving no trace of their stay behind, just like in all the fairy-tales that described _them_.

For a short while, Nicolas Flamel once again felt like a little boy with his parents sneaking out right after his father finished one of his amazing stories and his mother tucked him in. Then, he went to sleep to never wake again...

* * *

AN. If anyone is curious, those books had the description of Horcruxes you could read couple of chapters back, as well as some information on other kinds of immortality. Nothing too fancy.


	85. Chapter 85

How about you continue to falsely convince yourself that I'm J. K. Rowling and I simply write this chapter, okay?

* * *

Harry stood motionlessly, his eyes clothes, taking even measured breaths. If he wasn't standing, one could even be mistaken that he was asleep. He frowned in concentration, but then sighed and shook his head.

'This is futile,' he thought to himself, 'How the hell am I supposed to move without moving?'

He opened his eyes and looked towards other students that stood in their own circles lied down in the Great Hall.

Just like he thought, even weeks after students came back to Hogwart he didn't receive a summon from Dumbledore. He was prepared to wait quite some time before Headmaster would get accustomed to this new knowledge and try to learn even more.

Harry didn't mind. Having one less thing to do gave him additional time to further his own studies, especially after the recent events, and take care of other things. As a matter of fact, he treated apparition lessons that just barely started as a kind of hobby, a pass time he could to do tear his mind away from all the tasks he had to accomplish.

He shook his head again to clear it off, and stepped from one foot to the other since his legs started to tense up. He stopped again and thought what exactly he was trying to do. The guidelines their teacher gave them had been simple enough. But yet they were completely useless to him.

'I can understand the two first things. Destination and determination. And I suppose that turn is enough for most to fool their mind into believing that they moved. But I'm too self-concious to twirl in place and think that I moved from the spot,' he thought with a sigh.

"So, how do I move without moving?" Harry muttered to himself, too quietly for anyone around to hear it.

He swept the room with his gaze, and frowned in thought. Closing his eyes, he kept the image of the Great Hall in his mind, imagining everyone and everything that was in it now with greatest detail. Then he made the walls and roof disappear. Then he removed teachers, students and finally all the circles lying on the floor.

When he was finished all that was left was him standing in his circle, surrounded by empty space. Not emptiness. He made sure to distinguish the difference in his mind. When he was happy with the result, he imagined himself reaching into his pocket, and taking out a polaroid picture.

It showed nothing more than a streatch of the stone floor with a white circle lying on it, yet he somehow knew that it was the one that was five feet in front of him. He glanced under the picture and smiled at the "I wish you were here" note written in what could only be Hermione's writing. Sometimes his imagination surprised even him.

He held the picture in his hands for a while, and then pulled at the edges, but instead of tearing, it stretched. Having a now distorted picture, high as it was earlier, but as wide as his arms could reach, he laid it on the space right in front of him. Holding the bottom edge with his foot, he pulled again, this time upwards.

The picture returned to it's former proportions, but now was nearly six feet high and looked more like a painting than anything else. Harry glanced at the circle in the picture. He still remembered that in reality it was five feet from him, but here it seemed just a step away.

Lifting his leg, he moved it over the edge of the picture, set his foot in the other circle, and stepped through. Feeling something of a soft breeze on his skin, he opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, pleased that in a single step, he moved five feet.

'And to think you did _that_ on your first try,' a familiar voice sounded in his mind.

Harry turned again and wasn't all that surprised when his gaze landed on Slytherin standing right in front of him.

'Very well done,' his teacher congratulated him with an approving nod.

But he knew that there had to be something more to it. Praises from Slytherin were sporadic, and laconic at best. Salazar was more keen to point just how much more was left to be done. Or, when he finally did voice that he was pleased, he challenged Harry to do it better of faster immediately afterwards.

So, why was he so jolly all of a sudden?

'I didn't apparate, did I?' Harry asked, and that small smile playing on Slytherin's lips was all the answer he needed. But his mentor didn't reply to that, simply standing there, waiting for his student to present his observations.

Harry played the scene he imagined before over and over in his mind, and suddenly his eyes widened.

'A portal?' he asked again, his panicked surprise all too evident.

It wasn't that portals were unheard of in magical world. Harry was surprised because they were all too well known. Even when they weren't taught at all, it was hard to find a wizard who wouldn't know about them. Their destructiveness was all the reason one needed to make sure every single person knew to never attempt to make one.

'Don't be so shocked all of a sudden,' Slytherin said, waving away his concerns, 'In my times it was a common sight to see a wizard disappearing just like you did,'

'Just like I did...' Harry repeated the words, remembering the slight movement of air on his skin he felt. It was nothing compared to the squeezing sensation he felt that first time Sirius made him side-along.

'But if it's so easy, then why no one is able to do it properly?' Harry asked, but seeing raised eyebrow on the face of the older man he sighed. 'No, you don't have to explain it once more. It's the same thing as always. They try to control every single thing in the process, at the same time omitting some or miscalculating others,'

'Exactly,' Slytherin nodded. 'What you did right now was to simply hitch a ride on a breeze... quite literally,' he added, chuckling at his own pun. 'On the other hand, every single thing you read concerning portals had, even in it's shortest description, a guidebook for road-builders, with an intercontinental highway chapter marked as a reference. It's quite literally as if they were trying to lie down their own laws of physics only to make the rest of the project work. Meanwhile, even youngest wandless wizard, like yourself, can spot all the portals in nature. As a matter of fact, I can even say that one particular trick survived in it's, mostly unchanged, form to this very day.'

Harry thought about that for a while, but the answer was clear from the start.

'Shadow-walking,' he said, recalling the informations about famed group of assassins.

'Quite right,' Salazar replied. 'It's a perfect example of how such a insignificant thing like border between light and lack of it, is a perfect place for a wizard to cross from one spot to a totally different one. A cloud of smoke or a flash of light... everything is good enough to be treated as a crossroad,'

Harry listened carefully, but at the same time,something else was bothering him.

'But if apparition isn't exactly teleportation, for the lack of better word, like I thought before, then what is it?'

He thought about apparition as it was described in magical community. He thought about every possible aspect of it, and when he remembered that there existed wards preventing exactly that, he stopped short in his tracks.

'Slamming into an apparition wards,' Harry remembered the description most people gave to describe the feeling, and he snorted, gaining couple of funny glances. It was good enough that he didn't laugh out loud.

'At high enough speed, even water can feel as hard as concrete,' Harry thought, trying to weight if his theory made sense. 'So, if magic allows you to move even faster, and you change the density of layers of air...' Harry glanced around, watching people trying to apparate to the spot right in front of them. 'Don't tell me that all those people-'

'Make their bodies go at an unnaturally high speed?' Slytherin finished the question, wearing that smile he reserved only for idiots who were sure of their own superiority. 'Pretty much, yes,' he gave the answer and glanced around. 'And then they complain that an arm or a leg gets torn away,' he finished with a shrug, evidently not treating it as that much of a deal.

'That's the difference between _them _and us,' Salazar stressed the difference which he underlined only when he was immensely displeased with the modern wizards. 'We start by looking for what exactly has to be done. They, on the other hand, repeat their sacred instructions, forgetting sometimes what exactly they are trying to do,' Slytherin complained, shaking his head.'

'You knew instantly that you had to find means to get where you were going, but I simply can't imagine what they're all thinking... That while they're appariting their bodies suddenly sprout wings? Rocket powered boots? That they're flushed down the express toilet...' Salazar sighed, shrugged and disappeared, probably tired of his own bitter humour.

Harry could only smile sadly when he saw his mentor in that state, but he simply didn't know what was bothering the old man so. That the old ways weren't back yet? He knew better than anyone just how close that day was... especially since he waited nearly a thousand years to see it come. Besides, he wasn't someone who would stay quiet with his displeasure.

Harry shook his head, thinking that whatever it was, Slytherin clearly decided to keep it to himself. He left that thought for later, instead sending Magie to Hermione, to relay the news of this newest discovery.

He watched the two girls talking for a while, then Hermione threw him a gick glance and replied with a smile. He turned towards Neville next, but by that time he already got the message, finishing a similar conversation with another uncommon person. Giving a nod in return, he concetrated on recreating the feat.

Seeing that his friends were doing fine, Harry turned his gaze towards the ceiling.

'If wards around the school block apparition... how far can I get with this little trick?' he thought to himself with a slight smile.

* * *

Draco watched the face staring back at him from the mirror. Once smooth and soft hair now changed into a roughly flattened heap full of many knots. His already pale skin turned white as chalk, making a deep contrast with the dark spots right under his eyes.

"What are you staring at?" he muttered sarcastically, snorting at yet another reminder of his former self.

Christmas break gave him little rest. At first he was happy to leave the castle. But after a while he noticed that even in his own home he didn't exactly fit. He still played the role of a son concerned with his parents affairs. But this time he no longer felt like it had something to do with him. For the first time in his life he was the outsider look in, and he caught himself watching all the smallest details that he missed in the past.

The things he saw kept him awake for many hours. It became clear that since he woke up to the idea that his previous life wasn't as perfect as he thought it was, he couldn't simply go back to sleep. That knowledge that the feelings plaguing him in the castle extended to the outside world only added to his previous problems.

Now, only a month after the term started, he was cracking like never before.

Throwing the man in the mirror one last contemptuous look, he pushed of the sink he was holding onto and went towards the doors of the bathroom. He pushed through, exiting onto the hallway, his gaze not leaving the floor the entire time. He didn't want to look at anybody. As a matter of fact, he didn't count on meeting anybody in this part of the castle, while most of the students were in class.

So, naturally, he had to end on his ass right after he walked into someone.

He raised his gaze only to see a girl in Hufflepuff's uniform watching him with wide eyes. He wasn't shocked. With the way he looked she probably thought he was deadly ill. Or drunk. Or even pumped full of drugs. Hell, he could even be all of that, it wouldn't be any much different.

But, surprisingly, the girl was thinking something entirely else. Yes, for a short while she was shocked, but when the boy started to pick himself up, and especially when he started moving along like she wasn't there, her surprise changed into concern.

She knew the Slytherin types. They were mean, had to show just how much better they are... But one thing that they all had in common was that they never showed weakness. As a matter of fact, they snapped harder the more you implied they weren't able to do something.

That's why she watched the boy stalk down the hallway, his shoulders slumped and his gaze stuck to the floor right before him. And in all this, she had to wonder, what exactly had he been through to be in such a state. She didn't knew when, or even if she fully decided to do so, but she started walking to catch up with the boy.

"Are you all right?" she asked when she was couple of steps behind him, but he disregarded her, or simply didn't pay her any attention.

"Do you need any help?" she tried again, a little louder.

That stopped him in his tracks so abruptly, that she nearly walked right into him again.

"Wh-" Draco tried to speak, but he wasn't able to. He cleared his throat, and tried again, turning to face the girl. "What did you just say?"

"I asked if you need help..." she repeated, frowning at the strange situation she found herself in.

It only got more bizarre when the boy extended his hands to lie them on her shoulders, watching her as if she couldn't possibly exist. Next thing she knew was that he was hugging her, shaking slightly, and she couldn't decide if he was laughing or crying. Probably both...

They stood there like that for a while, but ultimately the boy straightened, whipping his face with his sleeves, and smiled a tired sort of smile.

"If you would just come with me," he asked, and she felt herself nod, although she didn't exactly know why she was still a part in this strange scene.

Right after she agreed, he grabbed her by the hand and started leading down a hallway. They stopped at the end of it, and she noticed that he was thinking about something furiously.

'Where the hell is Potter?' Draco asked himself. He couldn't drag this girl all around the castle. Then he remembered that Potter was said to be involved with all those fancy parties Slughorn threw now and again.

Just when the girl opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, they moved again. With every step they take, it became clearer and clearer that they were going towards the new Potions Master's office.

When they entered through the doors that were left open, all the loud conversations and laughter that sounded in the hallway when they aproached died down. She looked at the small groups, three girls and a boy from various years and houses sitting all around the room. She couldn't quite understand what this was all about.

"Ah, you made it," she heard a voice coming from the side, and she turned only to get the biggest surprise of the day.

"Harry Potter," she muttered, her eyes wide.

"Where, where?" Harry shouted in excitement, looking all around the room. "Everyone keeps spotting him, but every single time I miss him somehow," he said to her while still scanning the room with his gaze. "I guess I'll never get _my_ autograph," he sighed melodramatically.

Seeing that, she couldn't stop herself from smiling at the joke.

"Harry, stop scaring the girl," a bushy haired girl told him, "Then she won't help us at all,"

"Yes, dear" Harry replied like a kid who just had been scolded. Turning towards the newcomers, he said "It's just that we are preparing another party for Professor Slughorn, and we need some new ideas, fresh blood... couple of hands..." Harry muttered, thinking about something.

"How about a Horror-fest?" he called to the people in the room.

"With real ghosts and vampires attending?" the youngest from the group replied, "How would you pull it off so everyone won't treat them as decorations?"

"And how am I supposed to work in these conditions?" Harry sighed tiredly, only making the girls smile more, "Well, if you want to help-"

"Sure," the girl replied offhandedly, after which Harry pushed her further into the room.

Draco watched the entire exchange with an unreadable expression. Even when the girl left his side he watched her carefully, and he couldn't fully understand. How people do that? Socialise. Only couple of seconds in the group and she behaved like a part of a family. Smiling, joking, laughing... He? It took him-

"Just a little over half a year, I'm actually impressed," he heard Potter's voice, and he turned to tell him something. Anything. To shut up, to leave him alone now that he got what he wanted... But he stopped short when he noticed how Potter was looking at him.

It wasn't a look of superiority, of someone that had just won something. It wasn't even a gaze of someone who was disinterested. Potter looked like him with the same gaze he saw just couple of minutes before. Tired, beaten, hopeless... It was clear that he knew exactly how Draco felt. That he had been there before, saw and felt everything there was to experience in such a state. Draco just couldn't judge if he got over it, and couldn't make himself to ask just how people live with this... this _thing_ in their minds, spoiling everything they look upon one it gets hold of you.

"I would say that it's time to pay out, but for the life of me I simply can't remember what this whole affair was about," Harry said, scratching the back of his head. "Do you?"

Draco opened his mouth only to close it again. He frowned, because more than he didn't remember, he honestly didn't care. He was too tired with the whole thing to waste his time counting his pitiful winnings. He just wanted to get the whole thing behind him, so he shook his head.

"Well, let's just say I owe you one," Harry said, and it only made Draco shrug in that 'if you say so' way.

"What do I do now?" Malfoy asked after a moment of silence.

"What would you like to do now?" Harry replied with a question of his own, and watched Draco turn to observe the group talking merrily in the room. He didn't knew if Draco caught it, but the girl that just joined them spent quite some time glancing their way, with concern written all over her face.

"I don't know," Draco muttered, and seeing that silence stretched making the situation uncomfortable, he started fidgeting. Just as he was about to turn and leave,

"Draco," Potter said to catch his attention. "When you start thinking critically about your life, or life in general..." Potter stopped, grimacing slightly. "Let's just say it's a hard habit to get rid off," he added, not having to say that he knew all too well what he was talking about. "So, if you have to think about anything, think about this. No amount of power will be enough when you make all the wrong decisions," he said, and then added, "Think about that, and think about the Dark Lord. Maybe we can have a conversation about it if you'll feel like it,"

Draco watched the boy standing in front of him, and even the honesty in his voice didn't surprise him. Shaking his head, "Yeah," he muttered, and turning to leave. "_Maybe_," he threw over his shoulder, feeling that he smiled slightly at the thought of Potter and any kind of possibility not turning into his favour.

And even as he left the group behind, not knowing what to do or where to go next, he couldn't stop himself from thinking that even if the world wasn't perfect, or didn't make that much of a sense, there were still things that made it worthwile to stay around.


	86. Chapter 86

Go to the real J. K. Rowling if you want an autograph. I'm busy. Pester me when I'm done writing and, hopefully, famous.

* * *

For the first time in Harry's life, there was nothing he had to deal with immediately . There were still major squabbles going on outside of the Hogwart's walls, but they were out of his reach for the moment. The only thing for him to concentrate on was the school itself.

Yet, as much as he wanted to do something, the school was doing fine by itself. The normality in the castle warped into combination of learning and wacky happening all around, but was relatively mellow and quiet. From all the minor troubles that arisen from time to time, nothing was serious enough, and most were dealt with quickly by the students themselves.

So, he took it in stride, enjoying this short break that he knew couldn't last forever. Most of it was filled with furthering his own studies and spending time with his friends. Those in the real world and those only he could perceive. Especially since some of the ideas they had in mind were rapidly growing out of proportions, now that there was nothing better to do.

But it ended one sunny Saturday, when he received an unannounced summons from Dumbledore.

"Now, Harry," the old man started after his usual candy offer, "I had some more memories to go through, but given your knowledge I think they aren't going to be much of a help," he said, watching his student carefully. "That's why I would like to devote our future meetings to learn as much as I can about your personal skills."

"How about I show you?" was Harry's immediate reply.

He knew that something like that would be needed in the end. That's why he saw no better way than to give the presentation first, and then deal with any additional questions.

Dumbledore's eyebrows raised at that response, showing his surprise at such a willingness.

"Do you have something specific in mind?" he asked, very intrigued by this turn of events.

"My guess would be that you were looking for places in which Voldemort could have hidden his horcruxes," Harry stated, showing that it wasn't just a guess.

"Yes, I was. However, from what you tell me, you have taken care of most of them. I don't think that the snake will be there," Dumbledore countered, showing his reluctance to go waltzing into enemy territory if there wasn't need for it.

"Yes, that's true, but I think that it would be still worth it," Harry stated.

With Dumbledore simply sitting there, he took it as a sign that he should continue.

"One is that we shouldn't leave Voldemort's toys lying around. Even if not now, or even in a decade, at some point someone is bound to find it. Since he is our problem, cleaning it all up should also be our responsibility. Second is that, if one of the items is supposed to be there, then we could find clues about how it was removed in the first place."

As Harry spoke, wrinkles appeared on Dumbledore's forehead, giving him a thoughtful look. It seemed as if he didn't consider minor merits from some things that could be done, simply thinking about the main thing that had to be done. Harry's approach, that even from a minor thing there was a merit one could gain, was so new to him that it pushed his mind deep in though.

"Last one is that it could tell us something new about Voldemort himself," Harry continued nevertheless, and that statement gained Dumbledore's full attention. "Even if we know from the memories why he does some things, it still doesn't show us how he achieves them. I know that you taught him, but with decades of experience out of school, he could develop his own style. That's why studying his spell-work could give us some hints about his type of magic. Not really spells he uses, but those small ticks, habits... something like a brush stroke on a painting that defines his own style. If we are aware of that, and catch him doing it over and over again, we could use it to our advantage."

That made Dumbledore frown. It was actually a very good point. The problem was that he never really thought of it before. Having taught young Tom, and dealing with Voldemort throughout most of his life, he didn't really think there was much more he could learn. Harry's approach on the other hand placed them on the safe side. Even if they didn't learn anything new, it would be a good way to double check if their informations are correct.

Deep in thought, Dumbledore forgot about the young man sitting in front of him. Harry did nothing to change that, giving the man all the time he needed to consider the situation. Yet everything about the man's demeanour told Harry that he knew that there was not much he could be more sure about. That in essence the decision was already made. The only thing Harry was waiting for, was for Dumbledore himself to consciously get to that conclusion.

"I believe no one would mind if we took a little trip to Hogsmade this beautiful evening," Albus stated after a minute of thought, "And the trip itself could be easily excused if anyone asked," he muttered to himself.

Having said that, he stood up from his chair and moved towards the window and motioning for Harry to follow. The boy just smiled at the change he just saw. Earlier cautious, trying to do everything one step at a time, now Headmaster was ready to spring to action. Putting the situation in new light really made him change his priorities.

Dumbledore extended his arm, and in the exact moment Harry grasped it, he was assaulted by the impossible squeezing sensation. When he was able to take a deep breath again, he noticed that they were in Hogsmade, which made him frown.

"Ah, you're probably thinking that it's impossible to apparate into and out of the castle," Dumbledore commented, seeing his expression. "Well, Headmaster's position comes with couple of privileges," the man finished with a satisfied smile.

Harry on the other hand thought along different lines. He knew for sure that there were ways to get past the wards, thanks to the recent apparition lessons and one simple test. But if one wizard could apparate the traditional way across the wards of Hogwarts, then for sure another one could replicate the circumstances. In time, even the smallest imperfection could lead to a complete destruction, and this particular flaw was something they couldn't allow. When the time came, something had to be done about it.

Shaking his head to clear it, he followed Dumbledore. The streets were nearly deserted, with only couple of people late for dinner making their way from couple of shops that were still opened to their homes. Still, Headmaster held up the appearance that they were going towards the Three Broomsticks for an evening drink.

Making sure that no one paid attention to them, Headmaster motioned towards the nearest alley. Safely hidden from view, they appararted again, this time reappearing on a piece of dark rock in the middle of the vast sea. There was still time before the next tide, but that didn't stop the waves, pushed by the evening breeze, from crashing against the rocky coast. Turning around, he noticed the cliffs, and immediately recognised the cave.

"The locket was supposed to be here," Harry said over the rushing wind, making Dumbledore frown in thought over this new piece of information. "Are we going inside?"

"Yes," the old man nodded. "I hope you don't mind getting a little wet?" he asked, trying to measure the distance to the entrance.

"Why should we get wet at all?" Harry asked, and Dumbledore immediately wanted to tell him off for complaining in this kind of situation. But when he turned, he blinked.

"I think this is much better," Harry added, making Dumbledore to blink again in surprise.

At first Dumbledore didn't knew what to expect from the kind of magic Harry described. Then he concluded that everything could be done, if one knew how to achieve it. But it was hard to prepare for what you didn't knew. Something like the fact that the boy left the small piece of earth, and was now casually standing on the water, rising and falling as the waves passed beneath him.

"People sometimes forget that properties of substances can be manipulated," Harry stated, seeing that Dumbledore just stood there, dumbstruck. "Some lizards can run across the water, and I heard some people have fun by riding cars across lakes. It's just a matter of hitting the surface fast enough for it to dense up and give you enough support for you to move on," he said and looked at his own feet. "You just need to create a force bouncing off between your feet and the surface of the water to replicate the effect. Sort of like rapid tap-dancing..."

Returning his gaze to Dumbledore, he smiled mischievously.

"Well, that's the theory, but I always appreciated practical use so much more."

Shifting his stance a little just as the wave came, he didn't slip over it, but was pushed forward instead. Dumbledore watched in amazement as the boy slid amongst the sharp-edged rocks, looking more like a roller-skater making his way over a track of elaborate ramps than anything else he could think of.

Shaking his head, Albus cast a warming charm on himself and slipped into the cold water, thinking that if there wasn't already a charm that could do exactly what he had just seen, then it could be invented. He simply didn't have enough time to wait for it.

* * *

It was couple of minutes later when Harry was joined by the Headmaster, but by that time he already found the place where the passage to the inner chamber had been hidden.

"Sir, what do you think about it?" he asked when Dumbledore was once again dry and warm.

Albus came closer, stopping right next to the boy, and gazed at the piece of wall right in front of him.

"Ah, yes," he muttered, taking a closer look. Then he quickly straightened, "Oh, surely not," he said, shaking his head.

"Just as I thought," Harry replied from his spot. "But as crude as it is, it suits Voldemort's style," he commented while looking around. Not finding what he was looking for deeper into the cave, he turned his head only to see Dumbledore with his sleeve rolled up, knife in one hand and wand in the other.

Seeing where this was going, Harry did the first thing that popped into his head.

"You crazy?" he yelled, slapping the old man on the wrist.

Being on a hunt for Dark Lord's soul piece, making way through his defences and about to slit his own forearm, Albus Dumbledore wasn't in a proper state of mind to be surprised in any way. So, at the sudden yell and pain, the shock itself made him drop the things he held in his hands as if they just activated Voldemort's world destruction device.

Snapping his head up and seeing only Harry looking at him like if he was a five year old who was just about to play with knives, he turned his gaze towards the ground instead. For the second time this day he was left voiceless, this time looking at the wand he used throughout most of his life.

Seeing the blank expression on Headmater's face as he was staring at his wand, Harry got a little worried.

"What is it, sir?" he asked, stepping closer. "Has something happened to your wand? I didn't mean to-"

"No..." Dumbledore muttered, cutting him of. Turning back to the boy, he smiled slightly, "No, it's nothing like that. In fact I think that it will work for you better than it would for me from now on."

Harry watched the man for a while. He didn't knew what it was, but even when honest, it seemed that the Headmaster didn't tell him the whole truth. Not watning this conversation get in the middle of what they were about to do, he just nodded, making the wand flow to his back pocked while he went back to the entrance of the cave.

"As I was just about to say, as crude Voldemort is, he's also arrogant," Harry said, looking out on the ocean with a focused gaze. "When he set that thing, he probably thought, just like you did, sir, about human blood. But like in any kind of sacrificial magic, payment can take many forms. If you don't have an item of good enough grade, you can always substitute it with couple items of lower grade," suddenly his gaze locked onto something in the distance, and soon enough, a fish came flying into his outstretched hand.

"Sleep," he whispered, making the fish go still. "I'm sorry," he added before slicing it open. The blood instead of spilling all over the place, gathered in his hand, creating a scarlet ball that swirled slowly in his palm. He covered the fish with a piece of cloth, and laid it gently on the ground.

"With blood on the other hand, there is no such thing as grade," he continued, standing up again and walking back to the hidden door. "There is no way to distinguish which blood is better, since you can't say which animal holds the first place in the animal kingdom. A horse can't live on the bottom of the ocean, and fish can't fly in the air. You can't judge them without taking in the environment they live in. Picking what is most important – running, swimming, flying – is only a personal point of view. As long as a species can successfully further it's existence, there is no good and bad. Since nature doesn't do that, I doubt magic will..."

Standing right in front of the place, he stuck out his hand, making the swirling ball of blood brush against the stone.

"So, if any kind of blood will do, all we need to learn is how much is required," he said, watching as the sphere got smaller and smaller, the more the wall sapped out of it.

Soon enough, what seemed to be solid rock vanished, revealing an opening. They stepped through, only to find themselves on the edge of a great black lake. They stood there for quite a while, watching every other way, but aside from a source of greenish light in what seemed like the middle of the cave, there was not much else they could see in a completely black surroundings.

This time, Dumbledore didn't simply make his own way, no longer able to see Harry as just another student of his. They boy, aside from his skills, had also vast knowledge. Albus only now started to see just how much more was to him than his usual fun-loving behaviour.

His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed that Harry knelt on the edge of the water. Running one finger across his forehead, the boy extended his finger and let a single drop of sweat to drop. But instead of dissolving in the dark water, after it broke the surface, the drop kept falling, and the deeper it was, the brighter it seemed to shine. When it was close to the bottom, that single pearl of light was enough to illuminate previously dark water.

That didn't rise Albus' mood, since what he saw chilled him to the bone. All over the bottom of the lake there were bodies. White as sheets, hundreds of bodies of men and women showed the true horror of the Dark Lord.

"Inferi," Harry muttered, scanning the sight stretching out before them.

"Remember, Harry," Dumbledore said in a hushed tone, "Warmth and light are things that are best when you meet one of those creatures. Fire, Harry. That's the only thing that'll make them retreat."

Harry only smiled hearing the warning.

"Oh no, Professor," he said, standing up and shaking his head. "This is too convenient to spoil it like that."

Convenient? The thought made Dumbledore frown. What could be convenient about stumbling upon an army of undead? Seeing the confusion on Headmaster's face, Harry started the explanation.

"In horror films zombies are probably the most terrifying thing for me. Imagine that mass of flesh coming your way from every direction. Their inability to run just makes it so much scarier. I can't even grasp the feeling when you know for sure that you will die. That no matter where you run, they'll be there. No matter how many you'll kill, there'll just be more of them coming. And, no matter how slowly, they'll come after you, and you'll die... You show death coming after you any clearer than that," he said, watching the bodies on the bottom of the lake.

"But in real life, they are probably the most ridiculous thing I've heard of," Harry said, turning back to the Headmaster, "First of all, you have to raise enough dead to make it work. Having only couple just won't cut it. Secondly, they have to be angered in one way or another," he smiled, pointing to the sleeping creatures with his head. "Having no brain spoils the idea of distinguishing between friend or foe. But their greatest advantage is what's also their downfall. Inability to feel pain. You can do anything you want, break them, shoot them, blow them up. You can even put a ditch full of burning oil between you and them and they'll still keep coming for more,"

Dumbledore listened carefully, but something was bothering him. Harry wasn't just explaining his idea to him. He was talking about it. That didn't sit too well with the situation, so there had to be more to it. Watching the boy, one idea came floating to his head. Harry wasn't standing there devising a plan. It felt more like he stood there, talking with a friend while waiting for a train or a bus. But what could he be waiting for in this kind of place?

"I guess Inferi aren't that far from zombies," Harry continued with the small talk. "I mean, as _re_-animated bodies, they're stronger and much more agile than an average zombie would ever be. But that's only to compensate for low numbers. That major flaw is still there... Now."

Harry stopped suddenly, closed his eyes and raised his hands like any conductor would to get the attention of the orchestra before the concert. Then, he clapped his hands. For a moment, nothing happened, but then it started snowing.

Dumbledore blinked at the idea. Looking closer, he could tell that those weren't specks of snow, but some sort of powder falling stright from thin air. He watched it make it's way down, but when his gaze once again fell on water, he stopped. It seemed to be boiling. He watched as spots where bubbles broke the surface one after the other appeared on the previously perfectly flat lake.

"Professor," Harry said to gain his attention, "I think we should step out for the time being,"

"What?" Albus asked, tearing his gaze from what could be seen as a weird weather phenomenon playing out before him. "Why?" he asked.

"Because I don't think that fumes of nitric acid can do anything good when inhaled,"

Dumbledore looked once again towards the lake, and then simply nodded, following Harry as the boy took out the vial and splashed just enough of blood to make the door open. Once safely outside, they had a moment for themselves, but even that didn't stop Harry from finding a solution.

"Dobby, would you be so kind as to prepare that fish? It helped us already, and it would be a shame if we simply let it rot here," Harry said, directing his words immediately to Dumbledore's left, making him frown at the inappropriate joke.

"Of course," came a voice, and Albust turned in surprise only to see what had to be a miniature person dressed in a tuxedo standing there, when he could honestly tell that there was no one when they came out. A startled blink later the person was gone, making him think that he imagined it, but when he turned he noticed that the fish Harry caught wasn't there any more.

Moments later he was presented with a plater of perfectly cooked fish, and couldn't conclude nothing more than the fact that even in magical world there were still things that surprised him.

* * *

With bubble-head charms in place as a precaution, they returned to the cave, only to see how much the dark lake changed. Previously perfectly flat, dark water now looked like common mud. Harry took out the head of the fish that wes left after the meal and dropped it into the goo. Watching for a moment and seeing that nothing happened, he nodded, pleased.

"I don't think that the acid will cause any unwanted damage," he said then looked towards the ceiling. "On the other hand, when the roots of the plants growing on the cliff will make their way here, it will be quite a feast," he added with a smile. "Coming?" he asked, turning to the Headmaster.

Albus was about to state that they still haven't found a way across, when he noticed that this time, the murky lake really was freezing over. He watched Harry making his way on the newly formed bridge. At one point he caught an image of a young lady ice-skating on the mud, with the surface freezing over wherever she went, but once he turned to make sure, there was no one to be seen. Shaking his head at the strange mirages appearing near the boy, he followed him.

When they reached the pedestal standing on a small island in the centre of the lake, Dumbledore wasted no time to examine the contents of the basin standing on top of it. After trying different things for a minute, he straightened.

"I believe," he started, "that the only way to uncover the object at the bottom is to drink the liquid," he said, turning to Harry to see what he was thinking.

The gaze he met made him feel like a schoolboy again. One who just destroyed his mentor's laboratory. Shock, revulsion and that something else that made him feel like the thing that he just said was a total stupidity radiated from those young eyes.

Harry shook his head after staring at the old man. He couldn't understand why he was so simple minded as to play Voldemort's game. Doing it his way they would fall into every trap that was set for them.

He could understand if the Dark Lord was here in person, holding everyone they held dear at wand point. Of course, given that he would be trustworthy when he said that "If you pass my trial, I will let you all go unharmed." Then Harry would consider if playing the game at all was worth it.

With situation as it was now? It was much better to disassemble the challenges one by one until nothing was left than testing if they could make it. Not simply because it was safer, but who would leave all the traps after they were done?

Sighing, he turned once again to the man.

"I took classes in Ancient Runes, but I could still make sure I'm right," Harry said, turning his gaze back to the pedestal, the thing he was looking at from the moment they came to the island.

"This whole thing is designed to keep the contents in," he said, pointing to the runes carved in the black stone.

"Oh, my," Dumbledore muttered, coming closer to have a good look at Harry's findings,"I haven't noticed those before," he said, taking in rune after rune.

'Yeah, because a deadly potion is sitting there, refusing to come out, out of the goodness of it's heart,' Harry thought while shaking his head, 'If it was held by a spell, then it would be as easy as deactivating the ward-stone. Since there isn't one, it's got to be runes,'

"I believe you're right," Dumbledore stated, once again standing up. "But there's something strange about this particular set of runes. It's designed not so much to keep anyone from pulling the potion out, but rather to keep the potion in. The only excuse is when pouring the potion from one container to the other, but if the container isn't able to keep the potion in, it will reappear within the basin," he explained with a deep frown. "I do not know of a potion that would need such a handling,"

Harry nodded as a sign that he understood.

"Now the thing I wanted to be sure about," Harry said after Headmaster was done, "Is this the rune that ties everything together?" he asked, pointing to one rune in particular.

Dumbledore looked at it closely, recognising the rune that in this particular situation meant "To Keep" or "To Protect". He traced the pattern that the runes formed, muttering as he did.

"Yes, I believe that's the one," he said in the end.

Harry nodded, and placed his thumb over it, closing his eyes in apparent discomfort. Dumbledore didn't know what this was about, until the boy haven't removed his hand. When previously was only dark stone, now one spot shined, radiating with what only could be heat.

Harry took one of the fish-bones he found during his meal, and started picking with it in the stone. Dumbledore watched, amazed, as the boy touched molten rock with a simple fishbone. No... He corrected himself when he got a better look. Even when the rock looked incredibly hot, the fishbone wasn't burning or even smouldering. It seemed that the boy heated up the stone, while maintaining the surface. As a result he recieved a stone he could easily write in.

Sure enough, after erasing the previous mark, Harry carved another one in it's place. Pleased with his work, one soft blow was enough to return the stone to it's previous state, but now with a rune meaning "To Expel" in the place of the previous one.

"I think a step back is in order," Harry said, making Dumbledore aware of the danger coming out of changing a working set of runes the way he did.

Just as they made their first step back, a feeling overwhelmed them, setting their hairs standing on end. Soon enough, small bolts of blue lightning started jumping across the pedestal, giving of light in the dim cave while it jumped from one rune to the other. It only grew in strength and intensity to the point where the light was constant, acompanied by a hum of energy. In the moment when Dumbledore thought if it wouldn't be saver to leave the cave altogether, the lightning stopped, leaving them in nearly complete darkness, after which an eruption of phosphorescent liquid illuminated the cave with millions of sparkling drops that evaporated before they even touched the ground.

A soft clatter caught Dumbledore's attention, and he noticed Harry bending to pick up a small locket. Opening it, he took out a small piece of parchment, and read it slowly. Dumbledore blinked, because with all the different lights he haven't noticed when exactly a small orb of light appeared. He watched it for a while, floating near the ceiling like a miniature sun.

"Professor," Harry's voice caught his attention, "Do you know anyone from the Black family who would have the initials R. A. B.?" he asked, passing the note along.

Dumbledore read it, thinking about the message. "Why do you believe it was a Black who wrote it?" he asked, giving the note back.

"Because I found the real one in their Ancestral home, and promised their House Elf to make it harmless," he said, returning the note to it's proper place.

Dumbledore smiled at the idea of a promise to the House Elf. "Then I believe it was Regulus," he replied.

That in turn made Harry smile. "I guess Sirius will be happy to know that," he said with a nod, not having to say that it would be better if he knew sooner. "We should go back," he commented, only now realising just how much time passed.

"Yes, I believe we should," Dumbledore nodded.

They made their way far enough from the cave to be able to apparate back, but once they made their way over the hill, one last surprise of the evening met their eyes.

"Oh, my," Dumbledore muttered, watching the castle.

The castle was surrounded by a thing mist, illuminated by the full moon that shined from behind of the astronomy tower. With the star streaked sky acting as the background, it really looked like a castle straight from a fairy tale.

"Nothing like a small reward after a long day of work," he heard, and turned to see Harry standing next to him, admiring the view.

He smiled in response. "I believe you're right," he said, once again moving ahead, "no matter what you do, it's those small things that mean the most. Sherbet Lemon?"

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AN. I guess this thing was totally unnecessary since Harry knows exactly where Horcruxes are at this point, but since I got the idea I thought what the hell. I only hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did when I was writing. Cheers.

PS. Sorry for the week without an update, but flu got to me.


	87. Chapter 87

I guess, if I were J. K. Rowling, it wouldn't be possible for me to disappear for a month without anyone noticing...

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I'm looking for a Beta. If anyone is interested, PM me.

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Time to go back home was fast approaching, and Harry was enjoying those few quiet days before the departure. His conversation with Neville over the breakfast table was interrupted by a flutter of wings.

"Hey, girl," he greeted Hedwig with a smile, when he turned towards her. "What do you have there?" Harry reached for the rolled up newspaper she brought, not minding when she took the bacon off his plate.

**The Ministry Collapses**

Like always, the newspaper tried to make the story more gruesome than it really was. They portrayed deaths and destruction, but the truth was that, given all the bandits roaming around the country, most of the ministry personnel worked in the field, returning only when they had something important to report. As it was, the midnight raid the newspaper described probably was nothing more than Voldemort strolling into the building while it was empty, and establishing it as his new headquarters.

Still, the story told Harry that the play time was over, and, now, that Voldemort made his move, it was necessary to take the affairs to a completely different level.

Harry's friends saw when his good mood changed to that subtle expression, which they knew meant he was focused on something, thinking it through. They turned when, suddenly, the air was filled with screeches, when the owls bumped against one another, desperate to make their delivery. It was the first time they saw so many of them arriving at one time, and didn't know what could get in such a distress.

Turning back, they noticed that Harry left his seat and was going towards the Head table. One glance at the title of the newspaper he left behind was enough to tell them that they should follow him.

"Headmaster, I believe we should talk," were Harry's first words when he reached Dumbledore, who stood from his seat, observing the chaos that slowly started spreading over the hall when the news and letters of distressed parents reached their recipients.

With the expedition to the cave enchanted by the Dark Lord still fresh in his mind, it took only one second for Albus to give his response.

"Yes, Harry, I will take your ideas into consideration,"

That just made Harry smile, but before he could tell Dumbledore that he was mistaken, the doors to the Great Hall slammed open, revealing Minister Scrimegour and his entourage. Silence fell over the people in an instance, as they watched the man stroll to the Head table, completely disregarding students sitting near their unfinished breakfast. It also showed Harry the real reason behind the tension in Dumbledore's pose. He was waiting, preparing himself for this conversation.

"Dumbledore," was all the acknowledgement Headmaster got from Rufus.

"Welcome, Minister," Albus answered with a polite nod.

Harry smiled at the tone Scrimegour used. It was too obvious that he was frustrated with the way everything turned out. Seeing the dust on the robes of the aurors that came with the Minister, and a slight sweat on the foreheads of some of the officials, they had to apparate to Hogsmade and walk all the way from there, not having a direct connection to Hogwarts the Minister could enjoy in his personal office in the ministry building...

Someone stopping behind him made him turn, and he noticed that his friends joined the growing crowd near the Head table. He gave them a signal that they should wait. Meanwhile, he returned to the previous thought, closed his eyes, and concetrated on all the small things he could prepare without anyone noticing.

"I see that the news reached you before we did," Minister stated, oblivious to the events happening just couple feet from him.

"Yes, they did," Dumbledore answered, ignoring that slight itch at the edge of his mind as he looked at the students, now silent, now watching the group and grasping at every word they could hear.

"Since Hogwarts is the best protected place we have access to right now, the Ministry ask you to let us use it as our new Headquaters."

Albus raised his eyebrows hearing that. The request itself was something he was expecting, but the actual politeness behind it caught him by surprise. It seemed that even Rufus could change, when faced with-

"You will be welcomed in Hogwarts," he heard from his right, and turned to face Harry... just the person he was thinking about a moment ago.

"And so will be anyone else, if they're seeking safety," Harry added.

Rufus frowned turning to look at the boy, confused why it seemed that he seemed to be the one calling the shots here.

Just then noise of rushed footsteps reached them, and everyone turned to see another group coming in. What stopped Hermione from watching them come closer, was a pair of kids playing a board game on one of the tables. She glanced at Neville, Luna and Rose, and knew that they saw it too.

She turned back, only to notice that Twins weren't the only ones there. A man in a full evening dress was standing near another table, scaning the dishes presented with a raised eye. A bush of blonde hair that could belong only to one crazy girl bobbed up and down as she skipped along the wall, brushing her hand against the stone.

Wherever she glanced, she noticed them. Two dozens or more, she wasn't sure since she have never met even half from those she recognised. They seemed to be busy with mundane tasks, but she knew that they really were waiting. For what? She had no idea, but Harry had never before summoned so many of them in one instance.

"What the hell is going on here, Dumbledore?" Lucius' angry snarl brought her attention back to the group that just came in.

"Welcome, Governors," Harry replied instead, "I thank you for coming, but it wasn't necessary. As you have probably noticed, Hogwart no longer needs your services," he said simply, giving them a simple bow, and turning to continue his conversation with the Minister.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Malfoy Senior yelled.

Before Harry could reply, Dumbledore's eyes opened in an expression of shock, when he finally discovered that his mental connection with the castle has been severed.

"Oh, my," he muttered.

"I'm sorry to catch you by surprise, Professor," Harry said, once again attracting all the attention, "But we were interrupted when I tried to explain."

"Well, I was thinking about an early retirement..." Dumbledore said with a slight, sad smile, "I guess, now I don't have a choice."

"Wait a minute," Minister said, finally loosing his grip at his temper. "Will someone explain to me what exactly is happening here?"

"Well, Minister," Albus turned to face him, "it appears that I'm no longer a Headmaster,"

"Then who is?" Rufus asked angrily, understanding less and less with every passing second.

"No one is," Harry replied to that question, "because there is no longer such a position. Just like there is no Board of governors," he stated, pointing to the group of self-important people with Malfoy at the front.

"Now who do you think you are, Potter?" snarled said self-important man, "You can't just do what you as you please. You don't have the right to-" Lucius was starting his tirade.

"I'm Slytherin's apprentice, and I have all the right to return this school to what it was supposed to be," Harry said, standing tall, and shocking everyone with the power in his voice.

That revelation stopped Lucius in his tracks, and made everyone who heard it go into a wide eyed shock. The only ones who felt fully the consequences of Harry's words were his friends. Hermione stiffened when that feeling of energy clinging to her body she knew so well left her suddenly.

She turned, and just like she thought, Harry's helpers were gone, but her eyes widened when she noticed what was left in their wake. Every single stone making the walls of the Great Hall was now covered with writings. She glanced at the moving letters on the closest one to her, and gulped when she recognised the spell.

The magic gathering spell.

She was only glad that during the day the candles weren't needed, as she was sure that a rain of fire wasn't something that Harry was planing on. She stopped herself, since she still could see the spell embedded in the stone. It seemed that it only took the magic that left a persons body, leaving them free to use the skills that affected their body. Potions, their mental skills and even animagus transformation should still work...

She stopped, thinking about wands. They gathered the magic, shaping it to form a desired spell... With the castle as it was now, the energy would be drained before the spell even left the wand, or even shortly after.

She once again glanced towards the walls. It seemed that Harry spelled every single stone in the Great Hall – no, in the entire castle if she had to guess – with that spell, turning them all into something of a ward stone, and preventing from anyone inside from casting a spell. But when had he managed to do that?

Suddenly, all those moments when he seemed to just stop in place, or lean against a wall waiting for them... That humming that seemed to be his constant companion. She shook her head, not believing that she missed all that. It was all right there, in front of her eyes. Small indications that Harry was casting the spells right next to her. But she missed it.

They all missed it, if the looks of wonder on faces of her friends were any indication. She smiled, turning once again to look at Harry. It was just the way he was.

"I don't know if you're aware, Potter," Lucius started once more, after he had the time to recover, "But it's a known fact that the Dark Lord is Slytherin's heir," he said, giving the boy a superior smirk.

"Yes, he is," Harry nodded, "So what?" he asked, pining Lucius with his gaze.

Malfoy took a step back at that penetrating gaze, really worried for his safety in that moment.

"I don't know just what you all told yourself," Harry said, directing his word to every single wizard present, "But blood is not the most important thing in magic. Will is. It lets you shape the world around you with a single thought and a simple swish. Being a heir, having the same blood, doesn't mean anything as daughters can be disowned, and sons can become mortal enemies of their fathers. Will on the other hand... continuing the work of your master and standing by the same principles. That's what being an apprentice means." he spoke, scanning all the faces looking at him.

"If you want to think that Voldemort owns this castle, do so. I carry Slytherin's will with me," Harry stated, raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

At his call, banners of houses dropped from the ceiling, hanging over their respective tables. They didn't hang there long, moving towards one another, and merging to form one flag, with a united Hogwart's emblem proudly represented on it.

"And Hogwart recognises that fact," Harry stated, bowing his head in reverence, "That's why I will be making some changes," he stated harshly, raising his head and once again pinning Malfoy with his gaze, "And if anyone doesn't like that, they can leave." he said, using a tone that made Lucius gulp.

Seeing that the attention was directed at him, Lucius took one glance around, threw one last dirty glance towards Harry, turned on his heel and left with as much air of superiority as he could muster in his retreat.

Harry glanced towards the Minister to see how the man was taking it, but found him staring at the retreating Malfoy with that calculative look in his eyes. It was clear that he was waiting to see how everything will turn out before he made his move.

"Firs, we need to re-sort every single student," Harry stated, "Fawkes!" he called immediately after, and suddenly, a ball of flame filled the air above them, from which the phoenix flew to sit on Dumbledore's shoulder.

"Don't tell me he has control over that bloody bird too," a mutter could be heard among gasps and whispers that filled the room at the sudden appearance.

Harry turned to the ministry official that made that comment and narrowed his eyes.

"That's one of the things we need to change. Can you explain to me why you feel that you need to control everything to make it work your way?"

The man, startled at having been heard, only turned beat red, muttering something incoherently.

"For your information, you don't have to. Most of the times asking nicely does a much better job than having control over someone," having said that, he turned to Fawkes. "We need Seharol here. Would you be so good as to bring him here?"

Fawkes chirped one happy tune as a response, launching himself in the air and disappearing in a ball of flame.

"Seharol?" Dumbledore couldn't help but ask.

"That's my name," the hat replied, falling on Harry's head when Fawkes reappeared with it. "And you don't know that because you never got the idea to ask," the had added, knowing what Albus was about to ask when he opened his mouth.

"Professor McGonagall," Harry said, turning to the teachers still sitting in their seats, too surprised by all the things happening to even move, "I guess sorting is usually your task, would you mind?" he asked, placing the hat on the table.

"Certainly," Minerva replied, jumping from her seat at the sudden way she called upon, "But why the sorting? I thought-"

"That's another thing no one bothered to ask about," Seharol cut her shortly. "The way this school was run changed many times during my existence. I had to change the sorting method to reflect those changes. Since you teach every single kid pretty much the same thing, it doesn't matter in which class they will spend most of their time. That's why I don't judge their skills, but their characters, and place them in the group best suited for them, in hopes that it will let them find friends easier, and spend the time out of class in a suitable atmosphere," The hat stated, surprising most of the school with that piece of information.

"Now, that the old ways are finally going to return, that will no longer do. That's why every single person needs to be placed in their proper house," The hat said, then looked at the Minister, "Your people too, but I believe most of the aurors will go to Gryfindor."

"Why do adult wizards have to be sorted again? They finished their education already." Scrimegour asked as a response, and, seeing that Minerva took the hat to start the storting, he turned to Harry, asking "And what are those old ways?"

"Age isn't important, one can always learn something more," Harry stated with a smile, "And, I don't know if you've noticed, but Hogwarts never really was a school."

"What was it then?" Rufus asked, confused.

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry asked with a raised brow, "Just look at it. Located on the high ground that commands the territory as far as the eye can see, with big walls, strong enough to withstand a frontal attack, full of men who are trained and willing to protect it. And, of course, with it's own flag." Harry said, pointing to the flag hanging over their heads. After a moment he return his gaze to the Minister who was standing there, confused."It can't be anything else than a castle. And, the last time I checked, we were at war..." he said, frowning.

"That reminds me. Biby!" he called, and a moment later, an old looking house elf appeared with a soft pop. Only Dumbledore recognised the elf as the oldest one in the castle.

"Yes..." The elf said, stopping himself, which made Harry smile, since he was aware what the elf was fighting against, "Harry Potter," the elf finally said.

"Please, tell the elves that they should start their tasks right now. Bringing the people into the castle should be a priority."

"Of course," Biby said with a slight bow, and popped away.

"Thank you," Harry said, even though the elf was long gone.

"What people-" Scrimegour asked another question from his ever growing list of things he wanted explained.

"With all of the ministry records, Voldemort will have all the informations about every single wizard in the country," Harry answered before Minister could even finish his question.

"And you want to bring them all here? There can't possibly be enough room in the castle,"Scrimegour scoffed when he saw that some were already trickling in through the doors of the Great Hall that were left open.

"Everyone keep repeating that there are hundreds of empty classrooms in the castle, with parts of it being completely unused. Now, those classrooms aren't really for lessons. They're just rooms that weren't needed at the moment, each big enough to accommodate a full class of students. Some furniture, and they should still be comfortable to live in for a big family. I don't think anyone really know just how spacious this entire castle is," Harry finished with a shrug.

"If you're going to use all the classrooms, then where will classes take place?" Dumbledore asked.

"That's what I was going to explain before Minister asked his question. There aren't going to be any lessons," Harry stated, making everyone listening to him to stare. "At least not in the way we are used to. This castle used to work in a completely different fashion. That's why Seharol mentioned the old ways." he said, and sat on the table to make himself more comfortable during the explanation.

"First, and the most important rule," Harry said, having attention of enough people to know for sure that everything said will reach everyone else without much from his words changing in the process. "No magic in the halls,"

Those students that heard him snickered at the long disregarded rule. He turned towards them.

"I'm not joking. You will not be _able_ to use magic in the halls. If you want to, try it right now,"

They lost their smiles, and some tried to cast the simplest spells, only to find that not a single thing was happening. That certainly caught everyone's attention when the news spread among the crowd.

"Hey, guys," Harry turned to his friends, "If you want to be useful, I would like for you to take care of all the non magical people coming in. Hermione, you in particular," he said with a smile.

"Why me in particular?" she said with a frown.

"Because I think I just saw your parents," at his words he eyes became wide, she threw one fast glance at the people near the doors, after which she squealed, hugged him really fast, and rushed to meet them, with Luna, Neville and Rose following her.

"You want to bring _muggles_ here?" Minister exclaimed, startled by the idea.

"Yes. That's one of the reasons why there will be no magic in the halls. What someone does in confines of their own room is up to them, but once in the halls, wizards and regular people will be indistinguishable. As a matter of fact, I think that adding a mechanism if the person living in the room becomes uncomfortable with the person that came in, is something worth adding to the ward." Harry thought out loud

"What is the other reason?" Dumbledore asked to get the boy's attention.

"I will need the energy. Also, non magicals will have to be sorted. Repeat that to Professor McGonagall. Seharol will know what to do," Harry said to some of the students that were listening, with the message instantly passed in the crowd.

"Even the muggles?" Minister asked.

"I guess you will understand once I explain what exactly will change. With war outside, everyone in the castle needs to be useful. And, no matter how high wizards think of themselves, it doesn't change the fact that magical community is far behind in some aspects. Some things can be done faster, easier or are simply unnecesary, with easier solutions at hand. Non magical people who live without magic on daily basis throwing their ideas into the mix can only help us.

"Something of an apprenticeship will be reintroduced, to replace regular studies. Instead of sitting in classrooms all day, students will help adult wizards in actual work. The only difference will be that they won't be studying under one master, but changing what they do once they master what they did before."

"Houses will still be there, but reason behind grouping people will be changed into it's original form. Cunning is Slytherin's trait for a reason. People in that group will be responsible for information gathering and processing, both, in and outside of the castle. They will be responsible for coming up with solutions to all the troubles we may encounter,"

"Ravenclaw was a researcher. People in that group will find how all the things in the castle can be used, re-used, applied or done differently. It will be their task to find how solutions thought out by the Slytherin's could be executed."

"Hufflepuff's hard working habits will be well used, since we need to feed thousands of people that will be living in the castle,"

"We're supposed to cook? But what with the elves?" One of the aurors still keeping watch near the Minister interrupted.

"They have their own tasks, something that we, humans, wouldn't be able to do so easily. But if you'd rather try that, be my guest," Harry said, giving the auror a mean smile that said clearly enough just how it would end., to which a muttered "No, thank you" was the only rational answer.

"Still, it's not only cooking. We need to grow our own food too," Harry said, rubbing his forehead over all the interruptions he had to suffer through. "That reminds me, follow me," he said, standing from the table.

He exited the even more crowdy Great Hall, aware of the fact that a crowd of people was following him. He directed to the seventh floor in silence, until:

"You still haven't explained what Gryffindor's will do," reminded the Minister, who caught up with him.

"Gryffindor was a warrior, a knight in a shining armour. It's obvious that soldiers fight," He said, making another turn.

When they came to the great staircase, some people started muttering, because the stairs were no longer moving, staying in the same position they were built in.

"How would you want to fight?" Minister asked, feeling a little irritated by the fact that the boy seemed to know everything. "We need to take back the Ministry. All the information and equipment in there-"

"Is meaningless," Harry finished, making Scrimegour scowl. "What? It didn't help you that much when you hunted for Voldemort's men and those new comers wreaking havoc across the country," he stated in response to Minister's expression. "And with Voldemort holding information about wizards, we know exactly where he will send his men. Expecting an unprotected family, imagine their surprise when they will meet a wizards ready to fight them."

"That would compromise his information, and it would too become meaningless." Rufus finished, then he frowned. "But, at some point, he will learn that it's all directed from Hogwart."

"Of course," Harry said with a nod, a small smile playing at his lips.

"You _want_ him to know that, right? But why? Why would you want to bring his wrath here?" Minister asked, concerned about the repercussions.

"Because Hogwarts is the only place that can take it, and survive. Instead of letting him roam around the country, we focus his attention here."

They finally arrived at the seventh floor corridor. Harry went past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, only to turn around and go the other direction. That confused people that followed him there, even more so when he turned again. Just when someone was about to ask what he was doing, doors appeared where once was an even stone. Harry opened the doors, and went inside. Minister followed him...

Only to find himself on the top of a hill. He blinked, watching the forest in the distance, and a small stream winding at the foot of the hill. He turned, only to be even more startled when he noticed that the doors that he just walked through were standing there by themselves. He walked around them, not finding anything blocking his path.

When he found Harry once again, the boy was explaining how the room worked. It seemed that usually only things that were brought in could be taken out. But Harry found that actual plants could be grown there, if they were given enough compost.

"The only element left is the Time-turner which would allow us to speed the process greatly," he finished his speech, looking at the Minister expectantly.

Rufus was slightly surprised at that, but then thought about everything that he saw so far today, and reached under his robes. Harry blinked when he got the small device moments after he asked for it. He thought that Minister brought with him someone who could construct one, but this worked even better.

"EVERYONE OUT!" he yelled, leaving the Time-turner near the door when everyone left. Opening the doors couple of seconds later he found it gone, and a small olive tree he noticed before almost twice it's previous size. He nodded, closing the doors but leaving them there, and returning to the Great Hall to deal with all the problems that were certainly waiting there for him.

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AN. Sorry it took so long. I hope that from now on I will have more time for writing.


	88. Chapter 88

I'm not Barney the Dinosaur either, but that doesn't seem to interest anybody... I wonder why's that.

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It was calm and warm evening when Hermione decided to step out of the the castle, and just for a moment leave the crowds that were everywhere these days. One step outside, and she had to stop and smile at the person sitting on the doorstep.

She once asked him why he preferred to sit outside, alone. His answer was that he already spent a lifetime in the building, and he wouldn't want to waste any more time doing it. Of course, knowing him, even though valid, it probably was the least important reason he could think off. Sighing, she sat right next to him, enjoying the soft breeze and the cloudless sky.

"How long have you been planning this?" she asked after a while.

"Planning what?" Harry frowned, not knowing what great secret she thought he hid from her.

"Oh, come on. Straining the Ravenclaw's study to the limits you worked so hard to uncover. Gryffindor's spell all over the castle. All those jinxes and hexes you fused with the wards to enforce the rules in the castle... Even that wand recognition you used to pull that prank on Slytherin's. Everything is here Harry, you can't tell me..." she stopped, since, when she was talking his smile only got larger, and now he broke into a chuckle. She didn't even had to ask, and simply waited for the explanation that was bound to come.

"I never knew you were one of those people who, when faced with a difficult situation, will say that 'Everything lead us to _this_ moment'." he said, shaking his head.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked, turning to look at him.

"Well, it isn't really wrong. Just naive..." Harry said, once again turning to look at the stars. "When you look back and say that everything led here, you forget about all the previous decisions you had to make to get to this point. If you'd look at those moments like they really were, you'd remember that all those actions that seem to be so sure now, were really just done on a whim," he smiled, glancing at her again. "You see, I don't plan all that much. I'm just very good with using what I already know."

She didn't reply, simply sat there beside him and thought about what he told he said had some truth to it. It would certainly explain some things that kept bothering her about him. Like, how could he be so spontaneous and collected at the same , spending so much time with him, it was sometimes impossible to imagine a situation that couldn't be won, prevented, contained or simply manipulated in one way or another.

That train of thought led hear to the reason why she was outside. Even with all the people living in the castle now, it was still under control. It was hard to believe. So many people in such a crowded space living without major problems... Especially after everything they've been through.

The first month was a complete hell. Harry haven't only brought muggle families to the castle. Everyone who wanted to escape Voldemort was invited. Only few people refused the offer made by the elf that visited them. Those who complied, soon regretted it.

That first day in itself was a complete mess. No one knew what to do with all the people. There wasn't enough beds or even rooms ready to house them. That soon turned out to be the least of their problems.

It seemed that, without asking one another, every muggle-born decided that it would be best to leave some details concerning magical world hidden from their parents. Now, that said parents were living under the same roof with actual wizards, it was inevitable that everything will get out of the bag.

Stories of giants, dragons, or even magical pranks did little to calm muggle parents. Very much the same thing was happening in mixed marriages, with muggle partner being bombarded with all those little details concerning magical world they were previously unaware of.

Add to that all the pure-bloods, constantly complaining about all the privileges they were stricken off, and Hogwarts turned into a never ending shout-o-rama. Muggles fought with wizards over their culture and code of conduct. Parents fought with children over who could do what. There wasn't a side one could pick from. No debate or even reasonable argument. All that was there was a bunch of people locked in a never ending screaming match filled with all the complaints, demands and threats one could think off.

At first Hermione didn't understand why Harry let things go so bad. Why, no matter who came to ask him to stop this, he only shook his head and muttered that "They weren't there yet." But now, looking back, she knew exactly what he did. He gave people time to be angry with one another. To clear their minds and say whatever they wanted to.

One day, when it seemed that a spark would be enough to make the entire castle explode, Harry made the elves stop whatever they were doing, and prepare a big feast. Sight of mountains of food, where only scraps greeted them previously, instantly silenced everyone. Combine that with some provisional bunk beds waiting for them, and a silence filled the castle that night, as if no one was to ever wake up again.

It's hard to comprehend just what a simple meal, comfortable bed and a good nights of sleep can do for a person when they're at their worst.

In the morning, Harry didn't even wait for people to wake up fully before he started giving out tasks. Everyone was made sure that the feast from the day before was a one night deal. Even the beds were gone in the morning.

With that small reminder that, even in the safety of the castle walls, there was something to loose, people grudgingly got to work. That one night of luxury got their attention, and the message was clear enough. If they wanted anything, they had to work for it. If they wanted more food, they first had to grow it themselves. If they wanted comfortable beds, they had to build them themselves.

Each and every person knew that it would be impossible for everyone to do everything only for themselves. With all the tasks waiting for them, as much as they didn't want to, they had to cooperate. Swiftly, the population was divided based on personal skills, and people slowly fell into the rhythm of work.

Silent days fell on Hogwarts. With exhausting work from dawn to dusk, no one had the strength to quarrel over anything. It was time filled with quiet meditation over recent events, if Hermione had to sum up the thought behind it.

Surprisingly, the first time voices were raised once again, it wasn't in anger. Instead, it was knowledge that brought people at odds. With wizards and muggles working side by side, different ways in doing things clashed heads. Wizards were fascinated when they were showed that so much could be done without magic. Muggles on the other hand were intrigued by all the things that they took for granted being changed so easily with magic.

Soon enough Ravenclaw's research department was well on it's way, breaking the laws muggle's knew so well, and bringing wizards into the twentieth century. Magical workshops and labs stood right next to muggle laboratories, which could work thanks to complete lack of magic in the rooms they were set in.

Immediately, Hermione and Luna got assigned there, and the pair of them, with the combination of pure-blood traditions and muggle ingenuity, quickly became a standard. The difference in perspective only made them work better. At first people were quarrelling which method was better. Magic or muggle. That alone gave them much thought. But the real fun started when they learned how to combine muggle thought with magic. Then the games were once again on, with pairs of researchers trying to beat the competition, trying to show just who could make things in the castle easier, or solve any problem better.

Neville, with his unrivalled skills in herbology, went to Hufflepuff. First thing they did in the Room of Requirments, was to scatter some seeds, to give themselves an instant supply of food. Now, the wilderness that grew out of those seeds had to be tamed into a plantation. That alone was hard enough, but at the same time, they had to fertilise them at a steady rate. The time skips they made to grow the food faster, required at the same time constant care.

On the other side, wizarding world was finally given the precious gift of cross breeding plants. Not only that, but with carpenters and seamstresses at hand, the transfiguration they used became so much more detailed.

Harry and Rose became new Slytherins, and it finally became known just what the elves do. Since they were responsible for taking care of inhabitants of the castle, Harry just changed their task to spotting out the dangers that could endanger Hogwarts. With their experience in staying out of sight, they were the perfect spies, and could inform about pretty much 's why, even thought people like Dumbledore and Scrimegour were right up there, there simply wasn't enough time to quarell over who is in charge.

It soon became clear that wizards simply weren't able to process so much information fast enough. Once again it was muggle science came to their rescue. It startled them just how fast you could catalogue and cross reference facts with a computer.

Of course, not a single child got into the Gryffindor division, but many of them were invited to join the training runs that all aurors had to go through regularly. Though, if any Death Eater in the future would like to get a little closer to his victim, they would surely be surprised by the martial mix that everyone picked up from the mixed group of trained and specialised military personnel, now stationed at Hogwarts.

Still, what surprised her the most, was that they weren't sepparated all the time. It wasn't like with the old houses, where they were locked away in their own parts of the castle, meeting only for couple of hours. In fact, it was the other way around. No matter what happened in the castle, there was always a mix of people gathered near it.

Well, aside for Harry, who seemed to be literally everywhere. When a dispute broke out, one that could go into something bigger, he was there and was just the thing that was needed to finish it. Sometimes he just listened, or kept one person from interrupting the other. Sometimes was harsh, dealing strick orders, but more to unite the people at odds against him that to have it his way. But his favourite way to solve problems was asking questions... in that childish way. Asking about the smallest thing, not because he didn't knew what was happening, but, along the way, the people giving answers finally found that one little detail that made their perspective so much different.

But still, the usual picture was a Hufflepuffs stating what was wrong with the blueprint they got, all the impracticalities and shortcomings, right to the ears of the Ravenclaws who designed the item. Slytherins advised what could be used instead, received orders for materials, or simply stated what could be done until such a time that researchers got it right.

Gryffindors, although sometimes going out for weeks out of the castle, coming back only to rest and resupply, mostly ordered custom trinkets or individualised battle gear. Especially when the military people got together and began to plan how to kill the enemy faster. That side of peoples character seemed to be the same, no matter from which culture the person came from.

Hermione was thrilled when she finally noticed what really was happening all around her. She couldn't believe that she was observing, from the inside, the beginnings of a living organism. Single cells quickly combined to form larger, more compex systems, finding their optimal place, and purpose they could serve. Slowly, but surely, Hogwarts stopped being just a building, and became a living, breathing organism, following it's daily pattern of work and inactivity.

"It's a beautiful night," Harry's voice brought her back to here and now, "I like nights like this," Harry said with a smile, turning his head to look at her.

She sighed, enjoying the warm breeze that gently moved the trees of the Forbidden Forest.

"The only thing that's missing is..." that pause made her look at him, looking at her with that infuriating smile of his, "Voldemort." he finished.

"WHAT!" she exclaimed in surprise, but he simply placed a finger on his lips, and then pointed to the sky.

Just when her gaze fell on the moon, the skies exploded with waves of colours, lighting up the the heaven with myriads of colours. It took her breath away. She had never seen the northern lights, but if she had to guess, this was even better.

Only after a moment she recognised the patters, colours interloping and joining until they were once again transparent. When the wards around the castle balanced the energy again, she turned to Harry, only to see that he was still watching her, but this time with a childish, wonder filled smile which vanished when she frowned.

"What was that?" she asked, completely confused.

"It seems that the guy used his new toys, and somehow changed his nickname into a tracker," Harry said with a shrug.

"So, you've been knocking Death Eaters out?" she asked, shaking her head at the idea.

"Well, if you say it like that..." he said, his tone alone being enough to state that she spoiled the fun.

She sighed, leaning against him and placing her head on his shoulder. She couldn't quite grasp the idea, but for her, in this mad world, Harry seemed to be the only sane person.

* * *

Harry was enjoying an evening after a busy day. It was strange that people couldn't simply acknowledge potential when they saw it. Today he had to suffer hours of complaints from team of wizards and engineers, that he let a twelve year old wander around their construction site. They weren't so talkative in the evening, when the kid solved a problem they kept having over and over again, trying to raise an efficient system pumping the water up the hill.

Hearing the kettle whistle, he went to make himself a cup of tea, and finally enjoy some quiet time where he could be alone with his thoughts.

"Am I interrupting something?" asked an unannounced voice.

Harry turned, seeing an older gentleman, with unruly hair and glasses. Harry smiled, since it made him familiar, even from a single glance.

"No, it's fine," Harry answered, the fact that he haven't heard the knock or the doors opening being the final sign that he had to catch some rest.

"Would you care for some tea?" he asked, already picking up two cups without hearing an answer.

Even though no one said it openly, after that first day when he took charge, some people still regarded him as some kind of leader. Wisely, the word got around that if anyone tried to talk to him like he really was, he wouldn't acknowledge it in any way. That's why people didn't seek him for advice, but someone coming to him for a _chat_ became a common thing.

"Two sugar cubes, no milk, please," the man said, taking a seat in an armchair.

"So, what is on your mind?" Harry asked, sipping his tea. That question made the man smile, but the black haired boy couldn't quite catch the joke there.

"I just want to check how you're doing," he stated off-handedly, but there was something in his hazel eyes that bothered Harry greatly.

"How I am doing?" Harry asked, confused. People came to him mostly to ask about something. It was the first time a stranger came to check on him. Stranger... That word wasn't proper, Harry decided. The man seemed too familiar to be a complete stranger.

"Yes. It's clear that you try hard to keep the people around you in good shape," the man said, leaning forward and placing his hand over Harry's, "But it's sometimes fine to be selfish, and take care of yourself first, son..."

Harry blinked at that, but couldn't reply, being startled by someone else coming into his room.

"Hi, Harry. Mom made dinner tonight, and I thought you would-" Hermione stopped when she noticed the look Harry was giving her. Then her gaze fell on the table, and she frowned in confusion, "What's going on, Harry?"

"Oh, I was just," Harry started with a smile, the weird filling gone in an instant. He turned to ask the man his name, since he didn't really get it, only to see an empty chair, and two steaming cups of tea laid out in front of him. "Talking..." he finished, a dull pain radiating from his temple.

"Who were you talking to?" Hermione asked, concerned, taking a small step forward.

Who? Harry asked himself, with the pain in his head only increasing. He started massaging his temple to concentrate, at least a little bit, but the man with whom he just talked still eluded him. Instead, other images flashed before his eyes. The Great Hall full of people who weren't supposed to be there. Two little kids he had a chat with about the new toy he made for quidditch training purposes. Luna conversing with an even stranger girl... he couldn't remember her name, but it certainly started with Weird...

His eyes snapped open, and he glanced at his hands, when he became aware of all the times when he was talking with...

"Myself," he muttered a reply to Hermione's question, and he glanced towards her, catching a glimpse of her, running towards him in a strangely slow pace. Then he blacked out, before he even touched the ground.

* * *

There was a cloudless blue sky stretching over his head, as he laid on a bench, with a lovely lady stroking his head.

"I had the weirdest dream ever," he muttered sleepily.

He knew she was smiling when she kissed his forehead.

"Do you want to hear it?" he asked, opening one eye to look at her. The small tree they were sitting under did a fine job at shielding his eyes from the glaring noon sun, but at the same time, it made reading her expression almost impossible.

"You have to much on your mind..." she muttered, with a hint sadness in her voice.

"Yeah, I know..." he sighed tiredly, sitting up and running his hand through his hair in exasperation. "The castle is fine now, but with Voldemort still at large-" he started, only to be interrupted when she grasped his face, and made him look at her.

"No, Harry. You have too much on your mind," she repeated, more urgently this time. "Take a look," she added, pointing with her head to the side.

He glanced that way, and noticed the town he knew so well. Only it wasn't the same. It wasn't how he remember it. The relatively small town from his memory was nothing like that clustered metropolis he was looking upon at the moment. Massive sky scrapers were lost in the clouds of smog, hanging low, just over the slums that surrounded the old and barely standing buildings. All of the forests, green pastures, and even the lake was gone, buried under the see of concrete.

"Wh-what happened here?" he asked, turning to the girl sitting beside him.

"From all the talents you forged in your life, your keen eyes and perfect memory are your undoing..." she said, and she wore a pained expression when she scanned the view. "Normal people see, learn and remember only what they need to move forward. You, on the other hand, see everything, and forget nothing. You simply can't let go..." she said, her hands locking in a nervous grip.

"From all the thoughts you had, they're all still here... But they don't simply stop. You didn't made them that way. They keep working, evolving, growing. And when they can't do that no more, others come to fill in the spots where previous failed. You're an addict, Harry," she stated simply, looking at him, sitting there. She doupted that he will understand...

"Now you're busy with the castle. Then it'll be Voldemort... But what next? When everything will be fine in the world, what will you do? You won't stop. You'll find another thing to fix, another problem to solve. You won't let go, even if the problems you see will be only those you create yourself."

She shook her head, refusing to let tears fall. After a deep breath to calm herself, she once again turned to face him.

"That's why it's time to go," she said, standing up.

"Go?" he jumped to his feet, "Go where?" he asked, confused over the turn of the events. He didn't notice when the buildings in the city started disappearing one by one, until nothing remained.

"I tried to stop them, believe me, I really did," she said, pacing from one spot to the other and back again, "But this is the only way," she said, more to convince herself than anything else.

He watched her go, speechless over the strange spectacle, missing the fact that the whole world around him, even the grass under his very feet, disappeared, leaving only a blank, white glow.

The girl stopped, turned, and hugged him really hard.

"I love you, Harry," she whispered into his ear, "I hope you'll remember that. Remember that you're never really alone," she urged him.

In the end, she let go, kissing him on his forehead one last time before he couldn't feel her touch. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing all alone, in front of a door. No, a drawing of a door, he corrected himself when he extended his hand to touch the rough surface.

When even that started to disappear in the darkness, he finally asked the one thing that had been bothering from the time he opened his eyes.

"Who were you?"

* * *

The touch of clean sheets on his skin and smell of medicine hanging in the air was a sure indication that he was in the infirmary. He opened his eyes to make sure, but in the exact same moment.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, bringing attention of everyone waiting to the boy who just woke up.

"Geez, Hermione, there are sick people here," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. When he looked at her he became aware that he didn't have his glasses on. He reached to his night stand, and a moment later a sound that could only mean his glasses just hit the floor reached his ears. Fortunately his hand found his wand moments later.

"Accio glasses," He intoned, and an instant later had them in his hand. When he could see again, a weird sight met him. Hermione, Luna, Neville and Rose stood there, among other people waiting to see him, completely tense and clearly scared.

Some people, with Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey tried to get his attention and ask him questions, but that stopped when they heard the tone Hermione used to mutter:

"Where's Magie?" she asked, staring at him like he was about to die.

"You mean my childhood friend who dissapeared one day?" Harry asked, his expresion twisted with a mix of emotions. "Why would you ask about her now? You know that I don't like to talk about it. When I was young people asked me enough did I know Magie well... Especially that old guy living down the street who liked opera so much," he rambled, only to stop with a sigh.

"Hermione, I told you already. I don't know what happened to her. Maybe she simply went away..." he said with a bit of irritation. "I'll say it again, Magie's gone." he said with finality that chilled his friends to the bone.

* * *

AN. This is the moment I've been waiting on since I figured out how this story will end. This here, is how the end begins.


	89. Chapter 89

I think I stated enough just how not J. K. Rowling I am. I don't feel the need to repeat myself.

* * *

Silent days descended over the castle.

Hermione sighed at the thought, rubbing her eyes and glancing towards Harry. No, they weren't silent at all. Probably nothing even changed from the routine the castle settled into. Harry did a fine job at making the castle self-sufficient. Even without his help, people still continued their work, knowing perfectly well what had to be done.

It was her own mind that decided that informations about the castle were no longer interesting, and kept attention only to those concerning Harry. Because, he was the one who stayed quiet all the time.

He changed that day. They had no idea what exactly happened, but it seemed that Harry no longer remembered his life like it really was. Instead, all those times he used wandless magic were changed to show him holding a wand, and his creations became simply people he met at some point in time.

And Magie... That was the last thing he wanted to talk about. Hermione knew exactly why, because only now, for the first time in her life, she noticed just how big of a deal that girl was in Harry's life. Earlier she thought that Magie was there as an assistant of sorts. Someone who would execute Harry's ideas. Now, thought, she knew that the connection was on a completely different level.

That first day when he woke up in the infirmary, he wasn't himself. Later on it became obvious, since what could you expect from a person who just got half of his mind altered. But once all those changes that Magie incorporated settled in, they truly saw just how big of a damage had been done.

Harry seemingly stayed the same. He still could deal with any kind of problem in an instant, saw things from many perspectives... But all those mannerisms that defined him so far, were gone. Now he was clinical about his work. He didn't play games, he no longer gave performances... He simply pondered the problem, presented the answer and went on, without batting an eye.

Hermione didn't believe when she actually said it the first time, but she missed all those small, infuriating things he did up to this point. She imagined that what they saw now, was Harry as he was raised by the Dursleys. How he was without Magie. How he would have behaved on that first train ride, if he haven't imagined a friend...

Hermione wasn't sure if she would have befriended him then. More unlikely was that he would even notice her, just like he didn't seem to care for human company nowadays.

No matter how much they talked to him, Harry wouldn't budge, invoking his impeccable memory to prove them wrong. To him, they were the crazy ones, trying to tell him things that just weren't so. And, knowing their little group, they could easily be playing a prank on him.

Oh, sweet irony. They were only that way because he taught them how to open up. She, along with Rose, Luna and Neville... how would they be if he haven't been there for them?

That only lead her to think once more about the reason behind all of this. Magie. As strange as it was, that crazy girl, not doing anything the usual way, was a constant in Harry's life. She gave him support and comfort in the thought that, no matter what happened, everything would be alright with the two of them. He could lean on that thought alone. He could lean on her. Like with Yin and Yang, she balanced him out. Now, without her, he was slightly out of tune with his proper self.

After weeks of trying to convince him, they were at a loss. They even shown him wandless magic, only to hear that he always thought it to be possible. He wouldn't believe that he was the one who taught them how to do that.

They didn't know what to do. No amount of research would give them any kind of idea what they should do in this kind of situation. At this point, all they were really doing was waiting, hoping for...

* * *

"What do you want, Sal?" the group heard on one afternoon, while they were sitting in their usual picnic spot. Harry wasn't the best company right now, but they refused to leave him all alone, even if he said that he wouldn't mind it.

Their heads immediately snapped to the boy, who was currently staring into space, and they all had the same idea. If Salazar really was there, then the last thing they wanted to do was to interrupt them.

"You've been moping around, and I'm tired of it. Stand up," the man only Harry could perceive said with a commanding tone.

"I appreciate that you taught me how to fight, but it was a long time ago," Harry commented, complying with the command nevertheless. "I already know your every trick, not saying anything about the fact that I'm stronger than I was before. Do you really want to do this?" Harry asked, trying to find a way out of hurting his once upon mentor. "And dressed like that too?"

That last thing stopped him for a moment. Most of the wizards in the castle took muggle clothing as a given at this point, since they were much more practical while performing various tasks. Sal, with couple of old timers like Dumbledore and couple of stuck up pure-bloods, were probably the only people left wearing robes.

"Don't get too full of yourself," Sal reminded Harry, which made the boy go into ready stance out of pure instinct.

At a slight nod from both parties, Sal started with a half hearted hook. Harry didn't even snort at the obvious trick he had seen so many times before, simply threw up a block and replied with a quick jab. The curious thing was, that Sal's punch never connected, and that jab...

Harry blinked, watching his hand go straight into Sal's head, which disappeared along with his body moments later.

"Isn't it curious," that voice made Harry spin on the spot, only to notice the man leaning against the single tree, "That that conviction that you know everything, in the end, only makes you look stupid."

Harry was speechless, staring at the guy, and having no idea what happened just now.

"I've been watching you snap at your friends because you're still angry with that girl. That's why I want you to answer some simple questions," Sal said with that dangerous smile of his, making Harry sure that he wouldn't like this. "What's her hair colour?"

"Blonde," Harry stated immediately, only to correct himself, "No, brown. No... I mean..." He stopped, taking a long breath to calm himself. He had to deal with one thing at a time here. "It's that strange colour right in between blonde and brown. It always infuriated me to know exactly what it was."

"Oh, really?" Sal replied disbelievingly. "Wasn't there any red in there?" he asked with a smirk.

"Sure, but..." Harry started only to stop. "What... wait a minute!" he muttered with a frown.

"What is it, Harry? Something wrong with that perfect memory of yours?" Sal asked, knowing full well that the boy wasn't listening. That simple thing that seemed out of place was enough to get the boy's problem solving brain into overdrive.

"Since that seems to be too difficult for you, why don't we change the topic?" Sal stated a little louder, once again getting Harry's attention. "If you're still so angry with her, then when exactly was it that she abandoned you?"

"You know it was when I was living at the Dursley's. She told me everything was going to be fine, then just disappeared," Harry stated gruffly, like he always did when mentioning the girl.

"And no one seemed to care?" Sal questioned with a raised brow.

"What?" Harry asked back, not understanding what the man meant.

"A girl disappeared from a quiet neighbourhood and no one bated an eye? No one was looking for her? Didn't she had any family who would be concerned for her?" Sal asked with a growing impatience.

"It wasn't like that!" Harry snapped back, trying to collect his thoughts.

"Then how was it? By disappeared do you mean moved out? Then who moved into her old house?" Sal continued the interrogation, taking a step closer.

"Stop it! You're just twisting the facts," the boy muttered while shaking his head, a sudden migraine unabling him to focus.

"How can I be twisting things when you're the one with all the answers?" Sal asked, but this time more softly, taking the edge he previously used out of his voice. "Fine then," he sighed, "last question. If we have known each other for such a long time, tell me, what's my surname?" he said, stepping forward and stopping right in front of the boy.

"It's..." Harry started, only to stop, having found that he had no clue. He didn't even try to come up with an excuse, simply shaking his head.

"Do you see the problem now?" Sal asked, and at Harry's nod, he gave a firm nod of his own. "Then follow me," he stated, and opened a door that shouldn't be there, flooding Harry's eyes with a glaring light.

"Where are we?" Harry asked when he could once again see clearly. Not that there was anything to see. They were standing seemingly in the same spot, but surrounded only by white.

"This here would be your mind, or at least, the way you imagine it," Sal answered, taking a look around.

"Kind of blank, isn't it?" Harry stated, making the older man stop, thinking about the pun. Still, seeing how the boy behaved, it was doubtful that it was intentional.

"Well, yes," Salazar nodded, but when he finally found what he was looking for, "And no," he added, pointing to the item with his chin.

Harry looked in that direction, and walked the short distance. He picked a small snow globe that stood there, and smiled when he noticed the buildings inside.

"Hey! I remember this. She gave it to me when-" Harry started a joyful story about an item he thought he lost forever, only to be interrupted.

"Doubtful," Sal stated, cutting Harry short. When the boy glanced his way, "Try that again," he said.

Harry turned back to the globe, and stared at the miniature buildings inside. There wasn't any snow in there, he noticed. Sure, it haven't snowed there, but occasional rain-

He started to think, only for an ear piercing sound, along with a head splitting pain to interrupt him. While the boy fought off the pain, Salazar was intrigued by the small crack that appeared on the surface of the globe. It disappeared, along with the pain, as soon as the boy shook his head to clear it of any thought.

"It seems that, if you would try hard enough, you could break through the illusion," Salazar stated while Harry was pinching the bridge of his nose, "But I don't think that breaking your own mind is a smart thing to do,"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked after a while, "And what is this thing?" he added, pointing to the globe in his hand, "And, could you, _please_, start from the beginning, because I really don't have a clue about what's happening right now," he said, finally admitting just how little he was sure of right now.

"First of all, you should start questioning your memory. The way you remember things, isn't the way they really were. The thing is, your mind was slowly being over-run by stray thoughts. With so many of them, it was just a matter of time before you lost your focus. Magie, who constantly felt the need to protect you, saw that it was essentially her fault. That's why she took responsibility, and locked herself along with the problem in that little glass prison you're holding."

"Okay..." Harry muttered, "And now you will tell me what is happening, right?" he said, but after a while when Salazar only stood there and stared at him, he blinked. "You mean that Magie really isn't a person I used to know, but is in my mind, and more precisely, locked in a snow globe?"

"In essence? Yes," Salazar said simply.

"Tell me about screwed up things you're not aware of..." Harry muttered, running his hand through his head. "Fine. What do we do now? How do we get her back?"

"Oh, I don't think we can," Salazar stated, making Harry blink. "Even though I'm the only one she could never control, I just did the only thing I could. Shown you the problem you're facing. Anything more would be like telling you that the moon really is made of cheese. Completely incomprehensible to you. You would either laugh at it, or it would make your head hurt. I don't even think you would believe who I am," Salazar stated with a shrug.

"Try me," Harry challenged.

"Salazar Slytherin's phantom," he said, at which Harry immediately snorted.

"Okay, I take it back. I really don't see how that would be possible," Harry said after a moment of trying to argument such a statement.

"Yes, that's quite a long story, and there's simply too much Magie in it for you to recognise the events involved with it," was Salazars last remark on the topic.

"Then how do I solve this thing?" Harry said, staring at the globe like it was a puzzle.

"You can't," was Salazar's verdict. "This thing was created to stop anyone from knowing the real memories locked inside. You in particular. The only way you could even take a glimpse inside would be if you found a way in, and I doubt such a thing exists."

"So, I can't solve it, nor can I break it?" Harry asked, really not understanding what he could do in this kind of situation. "Then why show it to me at all?"

Salazar only raised his brow at that, and the silent treatment only made Harry scowl. Catching himself on that, he sighed.

"Fine, I guess I get the point," he muttered with his shoulders slouched a bit, "Can we get out of here already?"

Salazar shrugged, turned back, made couple of steps, only to disolve into thin air. Harry, who was about to follow him, stopped at that, looking around to check that he was really alone. His teacher abandoning him actually made him smile. It reminded him of all the times Sal made him find his own way. Well, at least he hoped that that was how it really happened.

* * *

Opening his eyes, Harry found his head in a girls lap.

"Hi," he said quietly while looking up.

"Hi," Hermione replied, stopping herself from stroking his hair. "You fell asleep. You must have been really tired," she lied. She didn't knew how to react this time. Earlier, when someone told him about something usual, even for magical standards, he wasn't the nicest person to talk to. But if Salazar...

"Or it's that thing that's weighting on my mind," Harry muttered, going over the conversation he just had. "Hermione, listen," He begun while sitting up and looking at her. "I had a talk with Salazar-"

"So you remember?" she asked, not able to hold back the excitement at those words. But then she saw the look he have her, and it evaporated as quickly as it appeared. "Sorry," she muttered, "Go on."

"No, I don't remember," he said, even though he didn't need to, "But now I at least know that I can't know everything for sure. I just want to appologise for everything. Snapping at you and the others all the time and refusing to listen to you,"Harry said with all the sincerity. "I guess I'm not the only person affected by this situation." he added, and it made a small, sad smile appear on Hermione's face.

"But you know what? I learned something else too!"

He got Hermione's full attention again, by that flamboyant tone he used. It was quite some time since she heard it lately.

"What is that?" she asked cautiously.

"That we can play a unique 'Spot The Difference' game," he said with a broad grin.

That made Hermione snort, only to fall into an outright laughing fit. Ultimately she laughed until she cried, egged on by Harry's concern that he could have broken her.

But that single reminder of how he used to be was enough to make her day. No, it was more than that. It meant that he could still be the way he used to be. It was just that his old bag of tricks got taken away. It didn't mean at all that he couldn't learn new ones.

* * *

A week have passed from his talk with Salazar, during which he became more open to the ideas his friends presented him with, and finally accepted his inability to remember things as they really were.

But that also made his even more intrigued with the mystery of the missing girl. Even though he knew there was probably no chance at all for him to solve it, it still haven't stopped him from trying. One day, he decided to browse through all of his possessions, in hopes that it will spark his memory. Instead, he found more than he ever bargained for.

It started normal enough, with items he used daily ending on his bed, but the deeper he went into his trunk, the more peculiar items he found. Along the way, he became less and less sure of where exactly he had picked them from. Like that strange ring, with carvings in the black stone that had been used as a jewel.

He spun it in his hands for a minute, trying to get even the slightest of feelings from where exactly it could have came from. Like with so many others that day, he ended with nothing. He placed it on the bed, and looked back into the trunk, only to frown at the next item.

A wand was lying there, waiting for him to pick it up. It baffled him. He had his own wand, which he bought in the Diagon Alley at the beginning of his education. This one, on the other hand, seemed even older than his own, with small marks of time carved into it's smooth surface. He picked it up to get a closer look at it's design, only to drop it a second later, as if burned.

He sat, frozen there, staring at his own hand, flexing it slightly to let the after effects pass. He knew the great power that came with casting a spell. The way his friends told it, he felt it even more than a regular wizard, not having been accustomed to the feeling by multiple use. But with this one, it was on a completely different level. It was incomprehensible. Like if he had held the power of the sun in the palm of his hand. And that just from holding it. He couldn't imagine what it would feel like to make magic with this wand.

"Ah, so you've finally noticed it," the voice he became so familiar with reached his ears. The man became Harry's constant companion nowadays. Thought he felt more like a hindrance. With his unique vantage point, was the best person to point out what exactly Harry got wrong. And he was happy to do that, all day long.

Still, he didn't say it outright, but made a game out of it, giving off odd puzzles, trying to make Harry get to conclusion, following the longest trail there could possibly be. Still, Harry got used to that after couple of days, and the man also shared his thoughts on the magic, which was imensly fascinating.

Shaking his head to clear it off, Harry turned see Salazar looking at the wand that was now laying on the ground.

"Two out of three," the man said, turning to the ring now, "That's actually quite an accomplishment. If you could only get the cloak, it would-" Salazar stopped at the sudden noise that filled the room, and he turned, blinking at the sight that met him.

Harry was up to his shoulders in his trunk, quickly moving it's contents while looking for something. After a minute of this, he emerged with a bundle of cloth in his hands, and "Like this one?" on his lips.

Salazar stood frozen to the spot, eyeing the water like material that the boy presented him with.

"Why haven't I seen this before?" he asked in a whisper, hoping more than ever before for a corporeal form to touch the legendary material.

"I got it in my first year. I was told it belonged to my father. Still, I haven't ever felt the need to use it. So it just laid in my trunk all this time," the incredible look Salazar gave him, at such a disrespect for the cloak, was enough for Harry to understand that this one was really important for some reason. "So, what's the deal with those three items?" he asked, placing them right next to each other on his bed.

"I think you're familiar with the Tale of the Three Brothers?" Salazar asked, sitting in an armchair as if he was a regular person.

"You mean the Peveller Brothers?" Harry asked, having heard the story from Luna on one occasion.

"Ah, so you _do_ know it," the man said with a smile, watching the items lined up on the bed with admiration.

"You can't tell me that they really met Death," Harry stated with doubt.

"Eventually, yes, but..." Salazar started, only to stop when he noticed Harry's expression. "Tell me," he said instead, "How do you tell that story?"

For the next couple of minutes, the boy summed up the story of the brothers who met Death while crossing a river, and how, one after the other, the Grim Reaper took their lifes.

"Hmm," murmured Salazar, having heard the entire thing. "I guess, too many people heard it, and it couldn't be simply erased. That's why they made the second best thing. Changed it into fiction. A simple fairytale, a bedtime story for children," Salazar stated, shaking his head. "Let me tell me that story the way I heard it,"

"Yes, there were three brothers playing near the river. But they weren't adults, simply children few years of age. One day, they decided to explore the other bank of the river they were living near. Mindful of their mothers warning that they shouldn't go near the water of the mountain stream, they fashioned themselves a bridge that allowed them safe passage. On the other side, a cloaked figure was waiting for them. A wizard who was travelling through those parts, and who was greatly impressed by the powers and ingenuity of such young children. By the end of the day, the boys left their home having found a master they could learn from," Salazar's eyes focused again, and he looked at Harry, sitting there, grasping at every word said.

"It was years later, when their Master died, that apprentices decided to honour his memory. The oldest one, best versed in knowledge of energies that rule this world, decided to create a wand. Wizards tried to create staves for quite some time now, but he was the one who managed to accomplish the task. He created the very first wand. The Elder Wand. A wand that could handle all that power, yet didn't rob you of the gift of wandless magic," Salazar said, staring at the wand.

"When he went to present his discovery to other wizards, he didn't meet the applause he thought that was due. Instead, he was killed that night, when greed reared it's ugly head for the first time. Since then, the wand passed hands, as wizard after wizard killed to have a chance at finding it secrets. After centuries, someone finally accomplished it, giving the world the wands as you know them now. Poor copies of a masterpiece. Fools... All of them," Slytherin snarled, "Antioch would surelly tell them if they only asked, but they were blinded by egoism and greed. As it is, not even the answer, but even the whole mystery of how to produce the perfect wand was lost throughout the ages, and reached you only now, when you can't do anything about it," Salazar shook his head, moving his gaze to the ring.

"The second brother had always been intrigued with the underlying fabric of the universe. The afterlife and spirits beyond. He attempted to create a bridge between the worlds, as to ask the dead if his theory was right. But the set of charms he placed on the stone had been too good. It didn't give him a look into the afterlife. Instead, it created illusion so real that he didn't want to leave it. I don't think he even noticed the murderers when they entered his home. That was how the greed took the second brother. Ironically, the men went after a wand, and couldn't recognise the greatness in the small pebble that Cadmus held in his hand," Salazar said with a sigh.

"The third brother, the youngest, constantly in the shadow of his older siblings, took pleasure in simple things. The scenic view of the lands they travelled through, all the animals and plants he saw along the way, even the simply breeze on his skin. He became the master of the world we all live in, and he proved it by creating the Cloak of the True Invisibility. Regular cloaks simply mask your presence, enveloping you in a see through fabric, but since the world isn't meant to house a bubble of nothing, that illusion still can be spotted. On the other hand, when you wear this cloak, it could be as if you didn't exist in the world any more. You can't be perceived in any way, be it sight or even smell. It takes a person with a really keen sixth sense to tell that something is even off," Salazar went on excitedly, only to stop.

"It was fortunate that he completed his project in that particular time, as the men who got to his brothers were looking for him too, hoping that he knew where the Elder Wand was. He eluded them for many years, and they caught him only when he gave the cloak to his son, and allowed him to escape while he distracted the pursuers. Congratulations, by the way. It seems you're the direct descendant of Ignotus Peverell," Salazar said with a smile.

"You know, this story is exactly why I did what I did," the man said after having watched the three items for a while. "Why I decided to leave part of myself behind. I heard this story, of all the things even wizards can do, when they obsessed with wanting more. It chilled me to the bone, and I dreaded just how it would end," he said, watching the walls surrounding it, in reality thinking of everything that happened in these halls so far. "I guess I'm lucky I have found you," he said, looking back at Harry.

"But I don't get it," the boy stated, "The way you tell it, those items shouldn't be as important as they seem to be. I can understand that centuries of retelling the story of Deathly Hallows increased the power of the items mentioned to mythical proportion. The master of Death and all that. But even you seemed to react to them like they were much more than inventions of talented wizards," Harry stated, confused.

"Ah, that's because you haven't learned the last piece of the puzzle yet," Salazar answered smugly, enjoying this moment before Harry knew the truth. "The Master. The teacher whose knowledge allowed for those item to be constructed in the first place. That man haven't left any kind of journal, and his possesions are probably impossible to find, lost across the ages and mixed with all the false trails."

"But those three items lying right there? Even thought they have incredible properties, it's the thought, the knowledge behind them that is truly remarkable. With them touching the mysteries of this world, the beyond, and powers tying them together, the ultimate knowledge is in arm's reach. Lear their secrets like you did with Gryffindor's sword, and you _will_ become the master of the universe."

Salazar smiled even more, leaning back into the armchair, and making himself comfortable. He wanted to remember the expression he was about to see in as much details as he could catch.

"You ask me why those three items are so important? Well, Harry, they are the only known way to learn how exactly Merlin did his magic."


	90. Chapter 90

This story is too close to an end for you to still believe that I'm J. K. Rowling...

* * *

Of course, Harry immediately told his friends about his latest discovery. But even with this one crucial piece of information known, it would still take them months, if not years, to uncover all of the intricate spells weaved into the items. A time they didn't have. Not now, when there were more important matters at hand.

"One of our safe-houses have been compromised," Scrimgeour said, walking into the room that was designated to be the main information gathering centre.

That stopped everyone present, because those were news that didn't come too often. In fact, government people still couldn't believe that an environment with practically no internal protection, was the safest place to exchange information.

If there ever were spies inside of Hogwarts walls, they probably left in first two weeks when life inside seemed to be even worse than outside. Still, even now, there couldn't possibly be a way to gather any reliable data. There were simply too many people involved.

Any possible trouble was taken in by a Slytherin, noted as taken care off, and passed on to Ravenclaws. Then it was changed to fit the current situation, and blueprints were given to Hufflepuffs, where the device or gadget was manufactured and given straight away to the Gryffindor that had ordered it. That was just the path, but on the way there would be ten times the people helping or adding their own ideas to the concept. Even with that, there would be even more people talking about it and theorizing about the future use.

To minds used to confidential information and secret documents, working in this kind of system was inconceivable. It didn't look like any information network any expert ever knew. It was more like a magic trick, where everyone directly involved knew only pieces of information, and there was a really loud buzz from everyone else about what it really could be. It was chaos. Said shortly, it was perfect.

Any spy trying to gather any kind of information would go nuts trying to distinguish what was really being done, and what was just theorizing, and then he would still need to locate the people directly involved. In short, information leaks didn't happen very often.

Still, even though Hogwarts housed most of the magical community, with their closest relatives, no one was forced to live there. But aside from the people inside, there was still more on the outside they had to be concerned about. There were many cases where someone sought safety from the turmoil on their own hand. Even then they were asked if they needed help in finding a safe place to stay in, or putting up protections.

Slowly, over time, a grid of safe-houses had been established, housing anyone who didn't want to come to Hogwart, or simply being a place where Gryffindors could rest and stash their equipment.

"Any casualties?" someone asked, breaking the silence that filled the room after such a statement.

"No," Scrimgeour said immediately, making everyone let a collective breath. "But we have a confirmed capture," he stated, making everyone mutter nervously.

"Who was it?" Dumbledore asked, hurrying in, having been summoned because of the latest news, and having heard the end of the conversation.

"Olivander," Scrimgeour stated grimly.

"That indeed is a problem," Dumbledore said, running his fingers through his beard.

"We've been trying to limit the equipment Death Eaters have, but with a wandmaker at his side, I guess new wands won't be such a problem for the Dark Lord any more," Scrimgeour said with a heavy sight, "Why didn't that old, stubborn man listen when I told him that he would be targeted?"

"Because you were trying to do the very same thing Voldemort did just now," Harry answered, comming into the room as a response to his own summons. "Have a wand-maker at hand."

"Don't be ridiculous," Scrimegour waved the accusation off. "We didn't mean it like that when we were trying to invite him in."

"Maybe not, but that would be how it would end," Harry countered. "First he would stay here, but since we all do our jobs, he would be compelled to do his. He's a wand-maker. That's what he does. Some way along the line, be it from peer pressure or from his own conscience, he would start making wands for us. He saw it, and that's why he refused the offer. My question is, how important he is to Voldemort?" Harry asked, ending the small talk and getting straight to the problem at hand.

"I guess the man is an asset of highest priority at this point. Only thing more important I can think of would be a Potions Master," Scrimegour said after moment of thought.

"No," Harry said, staring off in space, thinking furiously, "There is one more person that Voldemort would like to get his hands on," he said, once again turning to the people staring at him with a dangerous smile.

"What? Who?" Scrimgeour asked instantly.

"Oh, surely not," Albus responded to Harry's words, "Are you really sure about this?" he asked.

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. It seemed that Dumbledore went long way from the man he was, and really could show some trust in other peoples' capabilities. Or maybe it was only him that the exception had been made for.

"What are you talking about?" Scrimegour asked, a little put out.

"Harry here is proposing an extraction," Dumbledore stated matter of factly.

"That could work if..." Rufus started, only to stop when he noticed the calculative look in Harry's eyes. "Wait... _You_ want to do this?" he asked disbelievingly. "Are we really going to send schoolchildren out there now?" he asked Dumbledore, before turning back to Harry, "And I thought you said that only soldiers will fight."

"I said that, yes. But this here isn't a job for a soldier," Harry replied, his mind set, "This needs a more subtle touch. This needs a spy."

"A spy?" Scrimgeour asked more calmly, his mind open to at least hearing the idea out.

"First you would need to find the place where the prisoners are taken. With so many possible places we are observing right now, I wish you good luck with that. Then you would have to storm the place, which could become a a siege, a prolonged battle that could tip the scales," Harry stated. "On the other hand, if you make the enemy take you where you want to be, a small group that could be able to work it's way from the inside, then all you really need is an escape plan."

"And you already have that covered?" Scrimgeour asked, received a nod as a reply. "Fine, then who do you need?"

"I already have my group," Harry said with finality in his voice.

"What? And they're probably those friends of yours?" Rufus scoffed at the idea.

"Yeah, because Harry Potter with an escort of twenty armed aurors just walking around wouldn't be suspicious at all..." Harry stated, not even using the sarcastic tone this kind of statement deserved.

"Dumbledore, you're going to let him do this?" Scrimgeour turned to the ancient man for help.

"I learned to trust Harry's judgement when faced with this kind of situation," Albus replied, showing clearly that he wasn't about to be dragged into this.

"Fine," Scrimgeour snapped, not too pleased, "Then what should my men do in the meantime? I wouldn't want to spoil this glorious plan of yours."

"Burn stuff," Harry said with a shrug.

"Excuse me?" Rufus asked, watching the boy incredulously.

"Haven't you noticed it? Seeing how those foreigners are as much of a bother to us as they are to Voldemort, and since we have reports of increasing amount of areas damaged by spells not done by our people, it just shows that Death Eaters begun to hunt them down. Some more destruction, like we had seen the bandits do so far, would just throw Voldemort's men off track, or at least spread them thin. With enough hit and runs from our part, Death Eaters either tire themselves, or will have to create more, smaller groups, and that in turn will give foreigners a fighting chance. I say, let them fight each other." Harry said, and seeing how everyone was either checking the data or talking about the idea, he stood up, preparing to leave.

"Oh, and while you're at it," he stopped by the doorway, "Try destroying as much resources needed to build wands as you can. Voldemort has a wand-maker, but it won't do him any good if he doesn't have anything he could make a wand from."

* * *

It didn't take much on Harry's part to convince his friends to come with him. As busy their time in the castle was, they needed something even more challenging to keep their heads straight. A trait they inherited from Harry, no doubt. They all agreed that it was important to do this, with an opportunity to use their skills to their fullest being a gigantic bonus. The only problem was:

"I don't think it will be as easy as you say it is," Luna stated after Neville stood up, seemingly wanting to walk out and just do it right then and there.

"I thought you might say that," Harry said with a smile.

"The problem is that we don't know if there's a single location the prisoners are taken to, and if there isn't, we could be taken to completely different one," Hermione said what Luna had just thought of.

"Then we need to send someone first to check that out," Neville stated the simplest solution.

"Daddy is still publishing his paper," Luna replied.

Neville stiffened at what she was implying and opened his mouth to comment, but then stopped himself.

"Only if you'll be cautious," he said with a sigh. As much he didn't want her to put herself in harms way, he knew that she could handle herself, and it wouldn't be fair if he said the first thing that came to his mind. That just made Luna smile fondly at him.

"But that raises another problem," Rose said from her spot, "We need a way to communicate. A really good one."

"One that couldn't be recognised," Hermione proposed.

"Nor taken away or broken," Neville added.

"Close your eyes," Harry said out of a sudden, receiving curious looks from his friends. "Come on, I want to try something."

After one quick glance around, his friends complied with his wish, and closed their eyes.

"Now, go into your inner world but instead of going straight in, stop at the brink of your creation. Pick some blank spot that you haven't used before," Harry said, watching his friends meditate before he closed his own eyes.

"Now, think about me. How I look, behave, walk, talk... Every single detail you can think of, capture it and build a feeling of me in your minds. If you can, try guessing what I'm thinking about,"

"Is that really safe?" Rose interjected, making everyone to snort in laughter. Harry himself smiled at that, but get right back on track when the moment passed.

"Come on, we're working here," he reminded them. "Keep up with the exercise."

For a moment, the room was filled with complete silence that was dense from concentration. The people in the room sat without even the slightest movement, and one could almost mistake them for figures in a wax museum. Then, when the tense atmosphere was on it's brink.

"Open your eyes," Harry whispered.

They did, and gave a collective blink. Seemingly nothing changed, they still sat in a circle... but something was off. Before they could even start thinking of what it could be:

"Welcome," Harry said with a smile, bringing all the attention to himself, "Welcome to the Crossroads," he said, standing up.

Then they friends got it. They looked around and gapped at the revelation. When the after image of the world they saw earlier and expected to still be there vanished from before their eyes, they realised that they were staring at nothing. They were no longer in a room. It was just the five of them standing in the middle of limitless whiteness.

"What the hell is this?" Neville was first to ask.

"I thought about it a lot," Harry said, scratching his head, "The way we shape our minds is so much different than a regular person, even if they're a wizard. So, what would happen if you revised all the things people say our mind should be capable off. I mean, we already know how to move things with a thought... In fact, it's quite easy from what you told me," Harry said.

"Wait, so this is telepathy?" Hermione asked, her eyes becoming big and filling with that sparkle that showed every single time she found a new fascinating subject.

"I guess," Harry said with a shrug.

"But doesn't that mean that-" Rose started.

"No," Harry interrupted her, "I still haven't seen Magie. It seems that the gifts she had taken away from me were mostly real world based. I still can play in here or use the magic inside in my body. It requires concentration, but I still can do it. And, I came up with this."

Harry said, stepping to the side to show a simple mailbox standing there.

"From what Sal told me, this place was where my mind-scape ended. I think it's appropriate for any visitor to announce himself before barging in,"

"Then it's settled," Luna said with a nod, "I'll go tell Daddy we need a special edition of Quibbler. And..." she added, "If it's the usual Dark Lord prison, then I think Neville will be best to get us from it,"

"I like it," Rose said with her eyes looking far away, "A hero rescuing the damsel in distress. I can already see it," she commented, holding her hands out as if visualising a billboard.

"Hermione," Harry turned to the bushy haired girl, "I know that you probably won't want to use it-"

"But without it this thing will probably get a whole lot more complicated," Hermione said with a sigh, "I know. I'll manage."

"And Rose," Harry said to the last person without a task, "You sta-"

"I'll stay nowhere!" Rose snapped when she heard him start the word, "It shouldn't matter I'm younger, I know as much as any of you guys and I'm coming,"

"I was about to say," Harry said, grinning madly at the response, "You start thinking of a way to get through the wards when we'll be leaving," he finished the previous thought, making Rose stop and blink owlishly.

"Right..." she muttered, "Carry on then," she added with a wave of her had, behaving like if nothing happened, which only made the others laugh harder.

"Come on," Harry said when the laughter died down, "We need to practice this thing so that we can do it freely. And, Luna, when you'll go home, we will still need to test it to find if there are any problems or limitations with this thing," he stated, making everyone nod in unison.

* * *

It took couple of weeks and a very compromising article speculating Dark Lord's involvement with a group of female chimpanzees and their... "manager", a gorilla called Moe, to get the Lovegoods targeted. Now, when all the informations needed had been gathered and there was no turning back, Harry and his friends were standing in one of the woods, their backs to each other. When Harry was sure that everyone was ready:

"Voldemort" he whispered.

Snatchers no longer came to Hogwarts when he called that name, showing that they had enough sense to switch the trigger off for that particular location. But here, in the middle of nowhere, clear sounds of apparition followed immediately after he spoke that name.

"Welcome, gentlemen," Harry said with a slight bow. "We're so happy you could join us," he continued with his show.

Snatchers stopped at that. It wasn't anything they were used to. Usually there was much running, screaming and begging for lives involved, but here, the boy acted as if they were having a friendly conversation.

"I assure you those won't be necessary," Harry added, pointing to all the wands aimed at them with his chin. At that, four teens slowly raised their hands, showing that they were completely unarmed.

That only made the snatchers to exchange startled glances. Even more so when each kid started to walk in the direction of one of the snatchers, moving like if all of this was choreographed. Still, the thought that they were the ones in power here prevailed, and they kept their poise as the rough bandits.

"Take us to your leader," Harry said with the slightest of smiles.

Moments later, the combined group left the spot, with the snatchers still unaware of the invisible guardians waiting for a sign to attack. At the smallest indication of hostile movement, the snatchers would find themselves in a world of pain, with the group having to redo the whole thing again.

In fact, they had to do just that, since the first one they summoned haven't been sensible enough to comply politely.

* * *

They reappeared just like Luna described it, old brick walls surrounding them. The teens started walking, not even waiting for the shove in the back prisoners usually got.

Harry just hoped that they haven't overdid it. They were trying to come strong enough to make them wonder what was wrong with the picture, but not as hard as to be executed on the spot, or taken to Voldemort right away.

"Stop right there," one of the snatchers snarled, and Harry was relieved to see the doors to the dungeons nearby.

The man that just spoke opened the doors, with a growled "Inside". He watched them as they passed him one by one, and when the bushy haired girl was about to enter.

"Not you," he said, _grabbing the girl by the hair._

_"You'll tell us what exactly is happening here," he snarled, pushing her to the side, and nodding to one of his men._

Harry watched without a blink of an eye as the group of bandits left. He turned towards the descent, and the group of four entered the dungeons moments later.

"Hello," Luna greeted her, sitting on a crate and swinging her legs. "I see that everything went as planned?"

"Like clockwork," Harry said with a nod.

"You're alright?" Neville asked, coming right to his girlfriend.

"Oh, please. I didn't even need magic to confuse these brutes," Luna said as a response.

"That's good to hear," Harry interjected, "But we're wasting time here. Neville," he turned to the boy.

"On it," was the immediate reply.

While Neville went around the room, brushing his hand along the cold stone, Harry went to the other prisoners.

"Senior Teller Griphook," he said with a short bow when he saw the goblin that looked a little worse for wear.

"It's Master Teller now," the goblin stated, taking proud in his accomplishment.

"Then congratulations are in order," Harry replied with a smile, "May your gold flow as swiftly as your enemies blood,"

"Yes, enemies," Griphook said, glaring at the doors, "Are you here to kill the wicked? "

"Not now," Harry replied, "But soon."

"Good. They thought they could improve their wards by capturing a goblin, but picked another fight altogether. I give you my word that, when the day comes, goblins will be there to help you."

"And it will be appreciated," Harry replied, knowing better than refuse. Goblin's word wasn't something given lightly. "In fact, your help might be needed sooner than you think, but we'll talk about it later," he sated, and turned when he heard steps.

"Mister Lovegood, I'm sorry our first meeting is under these circumstances," Harry said, shaking the mans hand.

"Oh, it's quite alright. Luna told me so much about you we could be considered old friends," the man replied with the same odd quality Luna had.

"Could you help our friend there to get to his feet? We'll be leaving here shortly,"

"Certainly," the man stated, going right away to help the battered goblin.

Reaching the last bed, Harry finally found the man he was looking for.

"Mister Olivander," he said with a nod, looking over the bandages on the man's body. Luna did a fine job of taking care of everyone, but she wasn't as skilled as to take care of every single curse that had been used on the Griphook and the wand-maker.

"Mister Potter," the man said with a raspy voice, smiling never the less.

"Are you ready for our grand escape?" Harry asked, helping him to sit up.

"To see the old fashioned magic at work? I wouldn't miss it for anything," the man said with a laugh that turned into a coughing fit.

"I also have an item you will certainly want to examine," Harry added with a smug smile,

"Really?" Olivander asked, his curiosity spiked.

Helping Olivander to the place where everyone gathered in, Harry went to the spot Rose was crouched in.

"How is it going?" he asked.

"Belatrix is here. This have to be some sort of VIP prison if she's in command. She's trying to find out if Hermione had the real Gryffindor's sword with her or not. And by trying to find, I mean torture," Rose said, grimacing at the things appearing on the paper in front of her.

Harry glanced at Hermione sitting slouched against one wall, her eyes white and unseeing. The only indication that she was still alive was her hand, moving across the pages of an enormous old tome. Whenever her hand crossed a spot, writing appeared.

_...ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"_

_The girl's screams echoed off the walls..._

Harry smiled sadly at the girl. It was a good cover story. No one knew what happened with the Griffindor sword. He never told anyone, and now he simply didn't remember.

"It won't be long now, love" Harry whispered, kissing the girl on the top of the head.

He knew that she hated using The Book. If Luna was a natural at feeling magic, Hermione was the first ever magical scientist. Luna could easily feel the energies around her, but it was Hermione who could measure and catalogue them properly. Together, they were probably the greatest research team that ever existed, able to disect every single spell into it's base elements and put it back together in no time.

But there was an additional effect tied to Hermione's magic, one that the group found out about painfully when they were made to recreate one of Hermione's favourite childhood stories.

Whenever she unleashed her magic like she was now, the cause and effect of the world was halted, the probalitiest no longer taking effect. Having unlimited power, Hermione could probably set the entire world as she saw fit. With that, she would write the story the world would gladly follow without a complaint.

That's why they named that particular book residing in Hermione's mind as The Book of Destiny. One that she refused to use ever again after she noticed the effect she was having during their session in the Room of Requirements.

Of course, her initail guilt gave way to reason, and she knew that there would be times where using it would be inevitable. That's why she resolved the dillema before it even started by placing heavy restrictions on it. The most important thing for her was to never take control of someones free will.

The only thing she truly did was to create a very realistic illusion she traped her targets in. While in there, they still could make their own decisions, and there were even ways to see through the exterior and exit the trap. Of course, most of the people were too involved in the story to even notice the change.

Seeing that she was relieved that the ability left her completely vournerable to those uncontrolled, and that it took a heck of a lot power to sustain only made Harry love her so much more. Usually people would think how that kind of advantage could be used. She was worried to not overuse it, seeking every way to limit it.

"It's ready," Neville's voice reached him, and he turned, only to notice a wall, waving softly, no longer solid, with Neville standing beside it, his arm elbow deep in the liquified stone.

"Great job," Harry replied, then turned back to Hermione, "Love, it's time to wake up now," he said, stopping her hand and closing the book that vanished instantly. Hermione's eyes returned to their original colour, and she shook her head to fight of fthe sleep.

"I'm tired," Hermione muttered, drowsy from the after-effects of the spell.

"I know," Harry said with an encouraging smile, "We're leaving."

Instantly, everyone was on their feet, entering the portal one after another. Just as Neville followed the last person through, a stampede reached his ears. Sadly, the dungeon was completely empty when Death Eaters barged in, with no indication anything ever happened.

* * *

They seemingly grew from the earth in the garden behind the mansion they were kept in. With one look around the place, Harry nodded at Rose to let her know she should hurry up with the exit.

Olivander watched it, and couldn't believe his eyes. The things he had seen already were beyond his wildest expectations, and these children behaved like it was nothing. To think that at this age, having no teacher and next to no material to study from, they already could do so much. The old magics were truly great ones.

"Incoming," he heard to his left, and turned to see four Death Eaters rounding the corner.

The response was immedaite. If he would have blinked even once, he would surrely miss this great magical spectacle. The grass froze over in an instance, as the heat from all around was gathered in one spot. Then, Luna simply blew a great breath of air.

The brutes, even if they were skilled warriors, weren't prepared for the tornado that came their way. The ice shards, small rocks and gravel that it caried with it cut their robes and skin into shreads, and stuck under their heavy armours, preventing any future movement.

Olivander heard commotion on his other side, and turned to see another group being pacified by the trees, vines and even grass that was all around them. Earth was so rich with Neville's magical energy that the plants themselves protecte him and his friends.

Throughout it all, Harry kept watch over the small group they had just freed, humming a calming tune into Hermione's ear while he did so. But then a gasp from Rose reached his ears.

The wards around the place were really impressive. One could say, rock solid. Rose smiled at that initial thought, taking out her brush and painting a tunel, the likes of which Road Runner would use to escape seemingly exitless road.

The only thing she haven't considered was the amount of energy coursing through those wards. Without Hermione latching energy off of them, and now with aditional safety net triggered by their sudden escape, she was staring at a wave of energy that would smash her construct, burrying her under it. Her whole concentration was focused on maintaining the passageway, and she had no idea how to prevent the collapse.

Just when she thought that it was too late, she heard a mutter right beside her, and was suddenly twirled in place, ending up enveloped in a protective hug. Then, there were cracks of lighnings, heat, and when it all ended, smell of something burnt.

She opened her eyes, seeing the burnt grass and the dry sand that partially turned into glass under her feet. She turned, and meet Harry's eyes just before they rolled into the back of his head.

* * *

(Cut out material: Same scene, but with Magie in Rose's place)

Hermione sobered up seeing Harry fall down to the ground. His friends, having dealt with the threat for the time being hurried to his side. Just as they were reaching him, he opened his eyes with a groan, and slowly sat up.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, falling right on top of him. "Are you alright?"

"Hmmm..." Harry muttered, hugging Hermione closer to him. "I finally understand why boys like breasts so much," he said with an impish grin that made Hermione frown.

"Wh-what?" she stuttered, staring at his eyes. Then she scowled more, because there was something off about him. His eyes in particular. They were still green, but now there was a sky blue crown, spreading from his pupils, and forming an intricate pattern.

Hermione's eyes widened when she understood where that, and his strange behaviour came from.

"MAGIE!" she exclaimed, throwing herself back, and making Magie go into a girlish laughing fit. It was bizarre to say the least, seeing Harry laugh like that.

The laughter died down abruptly with a groan.

"Ow, Harry's head" Magie said, slowly standing up.

"This is strange," Neville said, helping her to stand straight.

"You think it's strange? Think how I feel," Magie replied. "I'm in Harry's body and it feels like a suit... A suit made from Harry," she said, shivering. She glanced at the wards and nodded, "The exit is still there, we should move,"

(They escaped, so on so forth... This is how the scene looked like before I made Harry Magie-less)

* * *

AN. I know that the prison break could be done differently. Hell, I think Luna could simply walk out of there if she wanted to. I just needed a place to show that Harry isn't the only one who knows how to do stuff.


	91. Chapter 91

Do we really have to still do this? I bet even J. K. Rowling herself is tired of me doing this every single time.

* * *

When Harry woke up again, he was resting comfortably in a comfortable bed in a quiet Infirmary. Well, it was quiet until he opened his eyes.

"What the hell were you thinking!" came two shouts that made Harry's still throbbing head hurt.

He turned, only to come face to face with Hermione and Rose who didn't exactly seemed pleased with him. In fact, from what he saw, they were pissed off.

"I thought that I could help," Harry replied after that sudden migraine passed.

"Harry, you can't do that-" Hermione started, only to be interrupted.

"Do what? Help?" Harry asked, like always acting as if he had no idea what they were talking about.

"You know what we mean, so cut it!" Rose snapped, "You can't act as if nothing changed,"

"Why?" Harry asked in that infuriating, calm and patient way.

"Because," Hermione took a deep breath, preparing herself for a longer explanation.

"I don't have Magie with me any more," Harry summed it up for her.

That stopped both girls in their tracks, because, even when they thought exactly that, saying it outright didn't sound as they thought it would. It left Harry with no skills whatsoever, unable to take any action on his own. Their anger at him disappeared, replaced by guilt over the fact that they thought of him so lowly. If there was something Harry proved times and times again, it was the fact that he could take care of himself.

"Is that it?" his question got their attention again. "If it is, then the only thing I can do is act as if nothing changed, because for me, nothing had changed," he said, looking them in the eyes. "I don't know how much of my memory Magie altered, but from what I remember, and from what you told me, I'm not the kind of person who would stand by when something needs to be done. I just don't remember myself any other way. Maybe with Magie I would have more options, do it differently, but I would certainly not stand there and do nothing,"

"We know Harry," Hermione muttered, but still wearing a small smile at his description, "We're sorry for shouting,"

Harry smiled at that. They were both bright girls, but their emotions tended to could their judgement.

"So, yeah, I took a risk. It was a big one, but don't think that I would just go out there knowing that I wouldn't make it. Now, my question is, could you make it on your own?" he asked, looking at Rose.

"No," she shook her head, "Thank you," she added with a shy smile.

"You're welcome. And it's good to know that I didn't take all that electricity for nothing," Harry said, moving slightly in his bed and grimacing at his aching muscles.

"Electricity?" Hermione repeated with a frown.

"Yeah, what exactly did you do back there?" Rose asked immediately after her.

"Well, even if we don't know what kind of energy magic is, I know a trait that all forms of energy share," Harry said, making them throw him an irritated look, bothered by the hold-up. "Energy always seeks the easiest way to dissipate," he answered with a shrug. A statement which made Hermione close her eyes and groan.

"You made yourself into a human lightning rod?" Rose went into wide eyed shock. "Are you fricking crazy?" she exclaimed.

"Yeah," Harry said, scratching the back of his head, "I guess... But just a little bit," he added, making both girls roll their eyes, and laugh at the way he simply couldn't be changed.

* * *

Good on his word, Griphook stood to the challenge, and brought the force of the goblin nation to Hogwarts. Soon enough, the already crowded castle was filled with goblins working hard on the wards.

Still, even thought the work went smoothly, it didn't go without incidents. Most of them were about the very same thing. With so many wizards in the castle, and all their possessions moved there, it was inevitable that some old goblin made relics could be found among them. Soon enough there were descendants of the makers and those of the original owner quarrelling all around the castle.

And, like all the times before, Harry did what he did best. He took care of the problem. With a walking stick and a frowning Madam Pomfrey at his side, he went from a dispute to a discord like the wise of the old, and dealt with one situation after the other.

"Why does he push himself so hard, even when he's hurt?" someone asked Harry's friends one day.

"Because he's a goblin," came a reply, and when the group turned, they saw a really old goblin making his way towards them. Luna, Neville and Rose instantly performed a proper bow to welcome Master Ragnok into the conversation.

"What do you mean, he's a goblin?" the wizard asked with a frown, not pleased with that kind of answer.

"Because he acts as if he was born one," Ragnok stated, his initial smile at the welcome turning to a displeased frown at the wizard's ignorance. "We share the same mentality," the old goblin continued, "he knows first hand what real power means. He has money, titles and fame, but he refuses to use them. No matter what he does, or where he is-"

"He's always just Harry," Luna summed it up, receiving a nod from Ragnok.

"That's just stupid," the wizard cut in.

"That's strength of character," the goblin countered. "Fact that you have power doesn't mean you should use. Harry Potter knows it. He knows that everything people want so much, be it wealth or power in any form, isn't worth that much in the end. But a simple idea. Honour. Respect. Personal integrity. Relying on one's skills alone. Those are worth all the blood, sweat and pain one can endure to keep them in place. In the end, one decent man is worth more than all of the wealth this world holds, and it's highest time people learned that," Ragnok stated, leaving the group as he had still much work to take care off.

"What a strange goblin," the wizard said with a snort when the ancient goblin was gone, "Saying that gold isn't worth anything," he muttered with a laugh as he was leaving.

Left alone, Harry's friends gave a collective sigh, finally seeing first hand where the problem was, and why Harry was working so hard to correct it.

* * *

Harry was saying his goodbyes to the infirmary. Even if he refused to be chained to a bed, he agreed to move there for the time being, giving Madam Pomfrey with plenty of time to take care of him. Even if he made sure to ward off his body, even that small part of it that managed to pass through managed to do some serious damage.

Finally he was given a clean bill of health, and leaving his walking stick in the Infirmary, he left it, hopefully for a really long time. But one step outside the doors:

"Harry Potter," reached his ears, and made him stop.

He turned, knowing exactly who it was even before he saw him. He knew only one person who could appear like that, and used that subtle, unintrusive tone of voice.

"Yes, Dobby?" he said, but seeing that the little elf simply stood there, not saying a word, "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," Dobby answered shortly, shaking his head slightly.

Harry stood there, waiting, now seeing clearly that his friend was trying to collect his thoughts.

"I did what you told me to do," the elf started in the end, "I waited, watched and thought a lot. After all this time, I think I finally know what I would like to do."

"And do you need help with that?" Harry asked.

"No," Dobby stated, "And, yes," he added. "I'm not good with words," he explained.

"You need someone who would speak on your behalf? Explain why you did what you want to do?" Harry guessed, finally getting the idea.

"Yes," the elf replied with a nod.

"Any particular time you would like to do it?" Harry asked.

"Now would be best," Dobby replied, extending his hand.

Somewhat curious about the situation, Harry grasped Dobby's hand, only to find himself standing in the kitchens. He blinked. It wasn't like any form of travel he knew till now. He didn't feel that he moved at all. In one instance, he was standing outside the Infirmary, then his surroundings wavered just for an instance, and when the picture cleared, he was in a different place altogether.

He gazed at all the elves staring at the pair that appeared out of nowhere. Since now people prepared their own meals, all the cooking equipment had been moved closer to the great Hall, leaving house-elves free to use what used to be kitchens in any manner they desired.

Looking closer, he noticed that most of the elves weren't even looking at him, but glaring at Dobby, who now stood with his head bowed, staring at the floor.

"I don't know elves that well to know exactly what you think of Dobby," Harry stated, gaining the attention of the crowd, "But I believe that he is a good person. A good elf," harry corrected himself with a slight smile directed at the elf that looked so strangely surrounded by others of his kind. In the end, as he was now, he looked nothing like the.

"It would please me greatly if you would give him a moment of your time," Harry finished, taking a step back.

Dobby glanced at him, giving him a silent nod of thanks. Then he turned, going to the closest corner of the room, the wall of elves parting and backing away as if in fear, thus allowing him free passage.

The elf stopped, and with a wave of his hand, held in his hand a simple pot, already filled with earth. He set it on the stone floor, and with his other hand, he retrieved now completely dry lily that he worn on his suit through all this time. Putting it in the soil, he placed both his hands on the pot, and closed his eyes.

For a long moment, nothing happened. All the elves and Harry stared at Dobby. Then the completely withered flower straightened up, the stalk returning to it's strong, green colour, and the petals gaining moisture, no longer looking like old crumbled paper.

It didn't stop at that, and soon enough, another stalk sprouted from the earth, developing into another flower in an instance. Other followed, and in matters of seconds, a whole bush of the beautiful flowers filled the small pot.

Then the clay broke, the roots of the ever growing plant spreading, reaching between the rocks that made the stone floor to find the soil and water hidden below. Instantly, the growth rate increased tenfold, and the single bush took to the walls, spreading from the corner to cover most of the walls and the ceiling.

It was a magnificent spectacle, a wave of green soon filled with spots of white as the flowers blossomed everywhere, each of them emanating a soft glow.

Harry heard about those. The flowers Magie used to give to Dobby as means to transfer energy onto him. But to create so many of them at once...

Harry turned just in time to see Dobby sway at his feet, and in two quick steps he was at his side, catching the little guy before he dropped to the floor. Harry looked his friend over. He changed so much in the span of minutes that it took to create this magnificent garden. He lost the human look that the magical energy earlier gave him, returning to his old, shrivelled and wrinkled self, his once perfect suit now hanging limply on his shrunken body.

"Live..." he tried to say, it coming out as a raspy mutter due to his parched throat, "Live... for others," he said, with his dying breath explaining his actions. In the end, he remained a true elf.

Now reminded about others that were in the room, Harry looked at all the elves examining the flowers with disbelieving gazes, and glancing towards Dobby with confusion written on all their faces.

Harry knew that even if they knew what the flowers were for, they didn't knew what they meant. They wouldn't use it just now. They weren't ready for it. But Dobby took care of that too. Harry could see it in their eyes.

The elves couldn't approve of Dobby, him being the different one. The one without a master. But on the other hand, they couldn't treat him as a shameful elf, since he dealt himself the ultimate punishment. He killed himself as a punishment for doing a single thing without an order.

He made a puzzle out of himself, an enigma, and it made Harry smile to see just how smart the elf really was. Maybe not now, or even in Harry's lifetime, but at some point, the elves would understand what Dobby really did. He gave them a piece of their own mind, and in time, they would learn how to be an elf, but not to be a house-elf at all.

"You did remarkably," Harry said with a smile, closing Dobby's eyes.

* * *

AN. I changed pretty much everything about Dobby, but I wouldn't dare to change one thing. He was a guy who would do anything to help others, even if he didn't knew exactly how to do it. He deserves a hero's death.


	92. Chapter 92

Unlike J. K. Rowling, I won't reach one hundred and forty-six chapters in my story... I doubt I will even make it to one hundred.

* * *

It was some time later that Hermione found Harry on the steps of the Castle. Even though Death Eaters no longer tried to get into the castle, he still spent his free time outside, overlooking the grounds. It was his usual behaviour, true, but with what happened recently, his friends began to worry.

That's why she walked outside, sitting just by him, and in that moment, she became aware that, while worrying about him, she didn't exactly consider how she should ask how he's holding up. It was intriguingly hard thing, to ask how he was feeling without reminding him of what happened, which could get him down even more...

"You're awfully quiet tonight," Harry came to her rescue, breaking the ice.

Hermione turned, and saw him sit there, watching her with slightly amused expression. She smiled slightly herself, seeing the irony. She came to ask how he felt, only to sit there, looking troubled herself.

"Are you really fine?" she asked outright, that slight smile vanishing as she looked at him, concerned.

"With what?" Harry asked, a honest confusion showing on his face.

"I don't know how you really feel about Magie," Hermione started, looking at the ground, "But it couldn't be easy, even if she made it appear that it happened a long time ago. And now Dobby. The two of them were with you probably more than anyone else. I just..." she stopped when she glanced his way.

He was sad, even if a little bit. But something in his expression told Hermione that the thing that he was sad about, was her.

"A man just slipped in his bathtub and broke his neck," Harry said to answer her confused look. "Another forgot to turn the power down, and got electrocuted while repairing a lamp. An old couple just went to bed, to never wake again..."

That made her blink. Harry didn't say it as a lead to some kind of greater story like he used to do all the time. He didn't even put that much weight to it. He simply stated facts.

"Each time you look at a tree, one fells and crushes a person under it. Every time you walk across a street, there is a person who didn't make it through. When you take a breath, there is a person dying of pneumonia, and every time your heart gives a beat, someone had a fatal heart attack," Harry continued with his list, not blinking once. "People die, Hermione," he summed it up to drive the point home.

"I know that," Hermione muttered, scowling.

"Do you really?" Harry asked, and Hermione immediately knew that there was no good answer to that. "I guess most of people are aware of that fact, in one way or another. They feel that some day everyone that is living right now will die. But know it? Consciously, deeply, completely know it? I don't think so. If it were like that, it wouldn't be such a surprise when someone near us would die, would it?"

"Loss of a person that is close to you is different than some person you have no relation to. You knew that person, even if a little bit. They influenced your life in one way or another. Them not being there any more is... just..." Hermione stopped, struggling to describe the feeling. She couldn't understand why Harry was different even when it came to this kind of situation.

"What are funerals for?" Harry asked out of a sudden.

"To honour the memory of the deceased person, and give them their final resting place," Hermione replied immediately, not understanding what it had to do with anything.

"No," Harry replied, shaking his head slightly.

"No?" Hermione repeated, waiting for the explanation she knew was coming.

"I thought about it a lot while I was a kid. Especially after my grandmother died," he started, turning to gaze into the star-filled sky. "Now that I've seen ghosts, it's another thing altogether, but back then, every single religion or theory I heard of, stated that, when someone died, soul left their body. If so, then what's left is only a piece of meat, simply looking like the person we knew. That person is in a 'better place', like everyone like to say. We should be happy for them. Instead, we shed tears, grieve and mourn the passing. Why? Why do we do that, I kept asking myself," Harry asked again turning back to Hermione.

"The only answer that made any sense is that _we_ are still here. Left alone, without that person. We need to say our goodbyes to that person, and know, even after their death, where they're staying. Just in case we would need to talk to 'them' again. Funerals aren't for the dead, Hermione, they are for the living," he said, that sad expression over human mentality showing on his face again.

"We are a strange species. Thinking highly of ourselves, but in fact, being so insecure, clingy and self-obsessed that we feel bad when someone else leaves us behind," Harry said with a tired sigh. "Is it so bad that I don't think that Dobby's life was all about me?" he asked, turning towards the stunned Hermione.

"But he's still gone..." Hermione said after a while, no longer worried, now simply wanting to understand Harry further.

"That depends," Harry remarked with a slight smile. Seeing Hermione's inquisitive gaze, "Once again a thing I thought about long time ago. To me, a 'soul', even if I've actually seen one now, still isn't that elusive wisp of... whatever. It's a person's character. That's why you can meet a person, watch them for a minute and feel like you knew them for a really long time. Or actually state 'You know, you're just like my father used to be.' The essence of the character, wrapped in all the odd things that accompanies-"

Harry cut short when Hermione gave an audible gasp.

"That's why you... you..." she tried to say, failing to find proper words.

"Why I had Magie and the others?" Harry supplied. "Yeah, I guess that they were strange reminders of the people that influenced me the most," he said, and then smiled when a thought struck him. "You know what's the best thing about imaginary friends?" he asked, starting one of Magie's oldest jokes that just now came to him.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, playing along.

"That you're never alone," he gave the simple answer, "And do you know what's the worst thing about imaginary friends?" not receiving an answer, "The very same thing," he finished.

Hermione smiled at that. She knew that he just told her, in his own way, that he was fine, also when it came to Magie. True, she couldn't have gone anywhere. It seemed that Harry believed that in one way or another, their paths were meant to cross once more. Well, with enough time, everything was possible.

"Graves," Harry muttered, "now who thought about that?" he asked, continuing the conversation just for the sake of it.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

"Putting a corpse into a casket, and then slamming a stone slab over it to be sure that it doesn't go anywhere," Harry stated, "what sense does that make? Well, aside of the fact that you make a ritual out of going there on the day that's scribbled on the headstone. It still amazes me how hopeless people are, since they need to place monuments everywhere, or make anniversaries out of every single thing, simply to remember that something happened. If it was so important, shouldn't we remember it on our own?" Harry asked, shaking his head. "I tell you now, when I die, I'd much rather share Dobby's fate."

"You want your head cut off?" Hermione asked, slightly confused and very much disgusted by the idea.

"What? No!" Harry exclaimed, catching what she meant, "That's a stupid human ritual, that I can't even begin to understand. Elves on the other hand do things differently. Since they couldn't think of anything else, they gave Dobby the old fashioned goodbye. They burned his body and added his ashes to the soil the plant he created is now growing on."

"Put the body back into the ground," Hermione remarked, "That's not so different from what we do."

"Yes, but with the Elves, it makes a whole lot more sense," Harry replied. "It's a funeral worthy of an Elf. Being useful even after death. All those vital elements being reintroduced into the nature. It's just the way thins were meant to be."

"So, since you clearly won't have a headstone, I guess we should thinking about an epitaph you might like," Hermione commented, breaking the moment of silence that followed his words.

"You've been thinking about what?" Harry asked, not sure if he caught it right.

"Well, with the things you've done over the years, it sort of turned into a game I, Rose, Neville and Luna play. We try to come up with a perfect one," Hermione said sheepishly, making Harry laugh.

"No, it's fine. I actually would like see some of the propositions," Harry said, getting that distant look in his eye again. "I guess there are only two graves I'm interested in, but seeing them once will be enough," seeing Hermione's gaze, he only smiled. "I'll tell you later. Now we should get back to what I was doing before."

"And what was that?" Hermione inquired.

"Do you know that the very first thing Dobby tried to do for me was to steal all my mail?" Harry asked, getting more comfortable.

"What?" Hermione asked with a startled chuckle.

"Oh, yeah. It all started with..."

Throughout the rest of the night Harry remembered Dobby. He told Hermione all about the little elf, mentioning probably every single story concerning him. The good and the bad. It didn't matter. Till the sunrise, Hermione got to know and love the little guy.

When Harry's personal goodbye to Dobby ended, Hermione couldn't say that she was sad or depressed. Truth be told, the only thing she was truly sad about, was the fact that she didn't get to know him that well while he was still alive.

* * *

"Mum, Dad... this is Hermione," Harry said, staring at the two slabs of stone in the middle stone covered cemetery.

It was only couple of days after they had their talk that Harry told Hermione whose graves he had in mind that night. Then, just like always when he got an idea into his head, he simply stood up, ready to leave.

Instantly everyone tried to stop him, but since there clearly was no activity in the Godric's Hollow, and the dark army marching through there just when Harry was visiting would be a freak occurrence, they were quickly persuaded that there was no need to worry. In fact, Harry used the idea that such a suspicious calm in otherwise magical community was strange in itself, and should be investigated.

That's how he and Hermione got to be in the cemetery on Christmas Eve, with Harry officially introducing his girlfriend to his parents.

"I thought you didn't care that much for monuments," Hermione asked after a while where Harry seemed to be having a silent conversation with his parents, or whatever image of them that he held in his memory.

"I don't," he said, finally done, turning to face her, "But this is as good time as any to tell them of the person I want to spend a really long time with," he said.

A small smile blossomed on Hermione's face, and she kissed him softly on the lips.

"I would like that too," she whispered after their lips parted. Then she turned to the grave they were standing in front of, she knelt and brushed the snow with her gloved hand. Wherever her hand brushed the earth hidden under the snow, small patches of Snowdrops grew. 'And I guess, I too am worried if you would have approved of me,' she thought to herself.

"Thank you," Harry's voice broke her silent conversation, and he helped her to her feet again. They stood there, watching the grave for a while.

"Come on," he said in the end, "I have something much more important in mind for today."

Intrigued, Hermione let herself to be led out of the cemetery, and down the winding roads of the sleepy village. Harry strode purposefully through the village, and it didn't take long for Hermione to catch onto what he was looking for.

There, at the end of the row of houses, stood a dark mass that once was a house. Harry stopped near the gate, grasping it as a means to reassure himself that he had really found it.

"I'm home," he breathed with a smile, as if saying hello to someone inside. The damage to the house, and the plants growing everywhere, not cared for throughout the years.

"I asked Sirius wh-" he stopped, watching the sign rise from the ground. He read the message, and scanned all the good wishes people visiting this place have scribbled over the years.

"I don't care just how many houses are listed as my properties," he said after a while, "This is my home. A home where my dad and his friends played jokes on each other, and my mum scolded them for it, only to laugh herself when she thought they weren't laughing. From what I heard from Sirius and Moony, it was fun. I hope I could remember more of it. So much laughter and joy marred by that single night," he said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in, as if trying to remember, or simply imagining something.

"I want this to be our house," he said, turning to face her, and it took Hermione's breath away.

In all the time she knew him, Harry had never been so excited. Hermione was mesmerised by the light in his eyes, and she felt a warm rush when she understood that the thought of their future together made him so radiant. She could only laugh when he hugged her and turned in place.

When he put her down again, they stood there, watching the crumbled building like it was the most beautiful thing in the world.

"Harry," Hermione said after a while, "You know that it's a complete ruin, don't you?" she asked as if he had missed it completely.

"Have that kind of a thing stopped us before?" he answered with his own question, staring straight into her eyes.

"I guess not," she answered softly.

"I can't do it myself," Harry said, even that thought not spoiling his time, "Do you mind?" he asked, pointing towards the house with his head.

"It would be my pleasure," Hermione said, leaving Harry and stepping closer to the front gate.

From within her mind, she retrieved a book that from a really long time held a special place. She opened Harry's story on a certain page, words flowing across the page to make place for the details that added themselves, now that she had seen the house with her own eyes.

When the text steadied itself again, he took a page, and turned it back. As she flipped the pages, going to the beginning of the story, the reality matched the direction she took, and the destruction slowly unmade itself.

Chunks of rubble littering the ground everywhere gathered themselves again, taking their rightful place in the recreated wall. The paint that moments ago was cracked and dry, now restored itself into it's proper colour, looking as if the painting had been done just the previous day.

While the house restored itself, everything around seemed to die in the process. The sign that someone placed, and all the ink that had been put onto it, lost it's magic, withering and crashing to the ground. The weeds and vines growing all over the yard and the house wilted, giving it's life to rebuild the building they were clinging to throughout the years.

When all was done, Hermione closed to book, sending it to it's proper place, and watched her handiwork carefully. The house itself looked perfectly new. Plants on the other hand had all but died down. It was fortunate that they did it in winter. When the snow melted, there would be a fresh layer of grass that would hide what had been done today.

The ward keeping muggles away had collapsed, giving their energy too, but Hermione solved that by adding a little compulsion into the stone. The following day, whoever lived in the city wouldn't be shocked to find a house that wasn't there the day before. Instead, they would wake up, look out their window, and like always grumbled about the old house no one lived in for years. That would stop one they moved in...

Hermione stopped herself, that warm feeling returning at the mere thought of living with Harry.

"Thank you," said boy whispered into her ear, kissing her neck, which only made a wave of shivers run down her spine.

The intimate moment was spoiled by sound of snow, squeaking under someone's boots. They turned, watching an old lady make her way towards them. She stopped couple of yards away, and beaconed them with her hand. She made the gesture again, urging them to come with her.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, but with a single nod they decided to follow the strange person, unrecognisable in the dark thanks to all the layer of clothing she wore as a protection from the cold night air.

They walked slowly, following the old lady, watching her struggle to keep her balance on the slippery road. Something struck Harry, and he put his hand on Hermione's shoulder, stopping her in place.

Instantly, the old woman stopped too, even without turning to see what they have done.

Harry couldn't understand what it was. It was something about the stiff movements of the woman, that should have been expected from a person graced with old age. But it didn't seem natural at all. If anything else it was like:

"I see the puppet," he called into the night, turning his head slightly, keeping the old lady in his field of sight, watching out of the corner of his eye how she turned around on the spot.

"Now for the puppeteer," he muttered a moment before he caught a movement in the corner of his eye, and he turned, only to be faced with a crumbled body lying in the middle of the street, and a gigantic snake flying right at him.

'Nagini' the thought ran through his head as his eyes widened. There were rumours that the snake was no longer with the master, but to be here out of all the places.

Out of instinct, Harry pushed Hermione behind him to protect her, and reached towards his wand and hoping beyond hope that he could make it in the instant that he had left before the snake reached him.

There was a flash of moonlight, and Harry stood there as two halves of a snake that had just been cut down the middle flew past him.

He blinked, staring at the sword he held in his hand, the scarlet and silver glistening in the soft light that the moon provided. The Gryffindor's sword showed it's was worthy of it's legend, as it came to the hand of the one who needed it.

Harry watched the blade, only to snort in laughter when he noticed that his watch was missing. His old, battered watch that haven't worked in ages. No matter how many times people asked him about it, or said that he should get another one, he kept it with him. 'Crafty Magie' he thought with a laugh. To think that she would put the sword right on his wrist from all the places...

His thoughts were interrupted by a hellish scream, and he turned only to see a cloud of black smoke rising from the dead snake. But there was something wrong with that smoke. For one, the scream seemed to be coming fight out of it, but more importantly, it seemed torn. Having left the body, it hung there, the wisps arching, twitching and struggling, yet the cloud didn't move an inch.

The scream ended, being replaced by a childish laugh that Harry could swear he imagined. But it seemed that he didn't, because, as if in response, the black cloud moved again, charging at Harry. Faster than he could react the cloud was upon him, tearing into his body through his eyes, nose ears and mouth.

He dropped to his knees, coughing and sputtering, but once he could breathe again, and his vision cleared, he froze. There, in front of him, stood a woman that felt strangely familiar, holding a baby in her hands. It wasn't a regular baby. Every visible inch of the skin was covered with scar tissue...

Harry stopped at that, because the picture was strangely familiar. Wasn't that what Magie did for a living? She took care of people. That was why she was at Privet Drive. But this couldn't be that baby she was talking about. That baby should have died, shouldn't it? For goodness sake, it had been flayed or something...

Questions clouded Harry's mind, that fought to find a way in between all the truths, lies and half-truths that filled his mind. Just in the moment he thought he could get it right, the woman turned sharply, their eyes meeting for an instance. Then, with a wave of her hand, the woman closed the invisible doors, disappearing without a trace, leaving only the empty road stretching in front of him.

That was also the moment when he became aware of the outside world again, and could hear Hermione, desperately calling his name.

"Harry! Are you alright?" she tried to get his attention, worried when a small trickle of blood came flowing out of his nose.

Then his stupor had been broken by something, and he dropped to the ground completely, rolling onto his back and bringing his hands to his eyes. Hermione didn't know what to do, when he lay there, taking measured breaths, and slowly rubbing his eyes. He seemed as if he had just woken from a really long sleep, trying to remember the dream he just had, that refused to stay in his memory.

Then he started to chuckle, going into a laughing fit.

"Harry?" Hermione asked again, now outright scared.

"It's fine, Hermione," he answered, finally throwing his arms open, and simply laying on the ground. Was he trully as relaxed as he seemed to be?

"I finally get it. I understand," he said, jumping to his feet. "I understand what I have to do in order to end it,"

Hermione still knelt on the ground, confused more and more with every passing second.

"What, Harry?" she asked when he picked her up from the ground. "End what?"

"Everything," he answered, that mischievous glint shining in his eyes.

* * *

AN. If I won't need to split chapters, and I don't think that'll be necesarry, then I predict four chapters more. Brace yourselves.


	93. Chapter 93

Come on. Give me a break. I said it ninety-two times already, in ninety-one different ways. I'm not J. K. Rowling. Simply accept it and proceed to the chapter.

* * *

Hermione and Harry appeared on the Hogwarts grounds, and, without a pause, Harry moved towards the front door. Hermione watched him stride purposefully, not having a clue what kind of idea ran through his head.

She go even more confused when, not long after they entered the castle:

"Master Ragnok," Harry called, walking up to the old goblin, who was standing next to quarrelling goblin and a wizard.

The leader of the Gringott's goblins saw wisdom in what Harry did. Mediating the conflicts between the races, and mellowing the grievances down. Co-operation and understanding between the races in those disturbing times was a needful thing. Added bonus was the fact that it meant better business later on. That's why he also mediated the conflicts, but abandoned this pass time when he heard the call of his favourite client.

"What can I help you with, Mister Potter?" the aged goblin asked.

"We need to turn it around," Harry stated, making Hermione frown.

"Turn it around you say..." Ragnok repeated, his greyed eyebrows going up his forehead.

"As in, right this moment," the raven-haired boy followed, his whole composure stating just how serious he was.

"That would be quite a challenge," the old goblin muttered, thinking deeply about the whole project. "Quite a challenge indeed," he repeated, a smile appearing on his wrinkled face.

"Accompanied with a worthy prize," Harry stated with a nod, a smile of his own firmly in place.

"Are you really saying what I think you mean?" Ragnok asked.

"If it works, I believe we both will have a whole lot more work to do," Harry answered simply.

"Then it is a good day to be a goblin," Ragnok stated, taking a filling breath at a mere thought of such an endeavour.

He turned sharply, barking a command to the goblin that stood nearby. The argument between the goblin and the wizard stopped by this important announcement. The goblin bowed quickly, and rushed into the castle to start the work, followed by Master Ragnok, his cane beating against the stone, filling the corridors with a drum-like sound.

Harry moved on, leaving the confused wizard all alone in the middle of the corridor.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, understanding less and less with every step Harry made.

"You know what I did to the stones in the castle," Harry replied, glancing her way just for a second, before he made another turn, concentrating on getting to his destination. "Even with all the laboratories working, and the Room of Requirements doing overtime, we're still getting more energy than we're using. If it went for too long, the energy in the castle would be so dense that I don't know what would happen. Maybe one day the castle would build itself legs and march off from the spot to tour the world..." Harry commented, and Hermione could clearly see that he wasn't joking. At least not fully.

"That's why I asked the goblins to install a valve in the wards, so we could safely let the excess energy out."

"But now you want the energy back?" she asked, not understanding what would require that much energy.

Harry didn't answer, bursting through a door to the information gathering room. He didn't even manage to get a good look around when:

"Potter!" an angry shout came his way.

"Yes, Minister?" Harry turned, his attitude showing that he really didn't have time for this.

"If you're so chummy with the goblins, then why don't you ask them to help us?" Rufus asked, clearly on edge. "All they're doing right now is causing problems in the castle, and meanwhile, I have people getting injured in the fie-"

"Goblins will not fight this war for us," Harry cut in with finality.

"Why the hell not?" Scrimgeour asked, angry that he wasn't being heard. "We could forge a new treaty with the Goblin Nation-"

"Clearly, you don't know what you're talking about," Harry said with a tired sigh, seeing that he wouldn't be able to get away from this one. "There is no such thing as a Goblin Nation," he said, making Scrimgeour frown.

"Goblins don't have a society like ours. They still operate under the family, clan and tribe categories. Gringott's goblins that make most of those on the isles, are just one group out of many that are scattered around the world. If you would like to negotiate with all of them, you would need to speak to the Great Council, and I can tell you right now, it wouldn't do you any good. Gringott's, in the scale of the world, is a really small clan, that have a say in the council simply because Master Ragnok is their current leader. It's his person that gets them the most respect," Harry stopped to get a deep breath, becoming winded from his rant.

"Aside from that, we're just a small insignificant blip on the map. Not only to the goblins. You think why Voldemort can do as he pleases and no one outside bats an eye? As long as he doesn't start making problems in other countries, it's no one's problem. That's exactly why I told the goblins to stay as far away from the actual fight as they can," he announced.

"You did what!" Scrimgeour exclaimed, his eyes bulging.

"Just what you heard. And the merfolk, centaurs and any kind of sentient being I could contact," Harry continued.

"Are you crazy?" Rufus asked with a pained expression, "They could be vital assets to this conflict."

"Oh, grow up, Minister," Harry finally shut the man up, speaking to him as if he was a five year old. "What were you doing with centaurs' lands before the conflict broke out? And am I to understand that you weren't trying at all to exert more control over what information Gringotts should share with you? Keeping merfolk under close watch? What the hell are you thinking, asking me to get their help? Humans did noting to show respect to those around, and now you're standing there, confused why they won't simply run to our rescue?" Harry asked, staring at the man, disgusted, and Scrimegour took a step back at such a treatment.

"Oh no, Minister. This is our problem. Voldemort and his men are our responsibility. We allowed that to happen. So, get up from that conformist ass of yours and get to work, because if all the other species can deal with their own problems, it's high time humans learned to do it too," he said to the man's back, as the Minister was in full retreat.

"And get me Dumbledore while you're at it," he shouted, reminding himself why he was here in the first place.

"I'm here, Harry," a voice reached him, and he turned to see Albus standing in the doors.

"Headmaster, where is the mirror?" Harry said urgently, grabbing the old man's shoulders.

"Mirror?" Dumbledore asked, a little scared of that frantic look in the boy's eyes. "What mirror, Harry?"

"The mirror of Erised."

* * *

It was a really long time ago that Harry saw it, but it haven't changed at all. The clawed feet and writing spelled backwards carved into the frame still gave it a haunted, ancient look. An artefact from the old days.

Harry stared at it for couple of minutes, hesitating slightly. He wasn't fully sure what to expect. He hoped it worked, but with a problem this complex, this could simply be a huge let down.

Finally, taking a deep breath, Harry stepped right in front of the glass, and smiled. He didn't saw his parents standing right next to him. That was one of those little things in his memory that didn't actually line up with the reality.

He did miss his parents, but not as much as to make them his most wished desire. Not knowing them that well, he created. from all the stories he heard throughout the years, an idea of them that made him feel like if they weren't entirely gone.

Now, with the actual mirror in front of him, the picture looked a whole lot different. Row after row of people, lined up and watching him. Most of them he didn't recognise, and those that he did, appeared only in glimpses, scattered across his memory.

But he didn't look at them. His eyes were staring at the girl – No, a woman, - standing in the spot where his reflection should have been.

"Do you remember the time when I asked if some things are real, or only in my mind?" Harry asked the woman, while placing his hand on the glass.

A small, sad smile graced her face, while she pressed her own hand on the other side.

"I said, why would things happening in your head not be real?" a voice answered from behind him.

Harry turned, ever so slowly, as if a sudden movement could scare her away again, but once he turned fully, she really was there.

"Hello, Magie," he said, looking her over with a thoughtful expression. "You've grown... again," he added.

"Having your own house, a child and a neighbourhood to take care of does that to you," she replied, showing that she stayed the same at heart. "You remember?" she asked, watching him.

"It's coming back slowly," Harry stated with a nod.

"I told you you should let it go," Magie said with a sigh, "And you only proved that you can't do that by seeking me out," she added, worried, glancing at the mirror behind Harry.

He glanced at it too, and now, having the real memory in his mind, he could see the difference.

"I guess they can't wait for it too," Harry said, "It'll end soon."

"So I've heard," Magie commented with a slight smile, feeling Harry's needs and intent once more. "I've really missed you," she whispered, hugging him from behind.

"I'm sorry I can't say the same," Harry replied sadly, turning to face her. "We have work to do. Can you handle them for one more day?"

"More or less," Magie answered, biting her lower lip. "One more day, Harry. That's all you'll get,"

"It should be enough. I'll join you later," he said, moving out of the room.

* * *

Thirty five litres of water. Twenty kilograms of carbon. Four litres of ammonia and a kilogram and a half of lime. Eight-hundred grams of phosphorus combined with a quarter of kilogram of salt, one hundred grams of saltpetre and eighty grams of sulphur. Then fluorine, iron, silicon, and fifteen other elements in small quantities.

A rough chemical make-up of the average adult body.

Harry was fascinated just how easy it was to create a body. Having a blueprint, it was just a matter of getting the materials in place, filling the form, and making the parts work together.

In just couple of hours, Harry created a homunculus.

But he didn't create a man. He wasn't as arrogant to play with the souls. Bringing someone back from the afterlife, or trying to stay in this world after the time given them ran out was the gravest thing a wizard could make. Death couldn't be cheated easily, and rituals of that kind always had a fatal cost.

That was the really hard part that Harry had to do that night. It was fortunate that he had a spare piece of soul at hand.

"There, there," the boy cooed, when the small room filled with cries of a baby that had just been brought into this world. Harry watched the small body covered with scars, the body he created transforming to fit the person that was wearing it. It seemed that soul really had something to do with how the world perceived us.

"Don't cry, and you'll get a treat," Harry whispered, dangling the Slytherin's locket right in front of the child's face.

The child quieted immediately, watching the locket swing back and forth. Then the child giggled. Then it did it again, starting to laugh merilly.

'Is it really the only way?' Salazar asked from the corner he picked for himself.

'Do you have any better idea?' Harry gave a question of his own, not tearing his eyes from the baby.

'So be it,' came a reply after a moment of silence, after which the man vanished.

Harry lowered the locket, and immediately the child was upon it. Nibbling, biting and in the end, swallowing the locket with a mighty burp.

Smiling, Harry put the baby into the crib, where it curled up and quickly went to sleep.

'The time is running out,' Magie reminded him.

It took him longer than he expected. Harry shook his head, regretting that he didn't have the time for a proper goodbye.

Instead, he closed his eyes...

* * *

Hermione was just finishing her report on her latest experiment. Merlin knew that she needed to take her mind of things right now.

After Harry questioned Dumbledore, he simply vanished, saying that he would explain everything later. A whole day have passed, and no one have seen or heard from him since.

"Hermione."

A whisper caught her by surprise, but she instantly recognised Harry's voice. She turned, expecting him to stand right behind her, but a totally different sight met her eyes.

She blinked, staring at the grassy hills surrounding her, when she could have sworn that she was in the laboratory a moment ago. Then she noticed a lonely tree growing right beside the road, with a bench right under it. Seeing who sat there, she walked the couple of steps.

"Hello, Hermione," he said, beaconing her to sit right beside him.

"Harry..." she said, not knowing how to ask, worry over yet another unexpected thing creeping into her voice.

"I'll be leaving for some time," he said sadly, playing with her hair.

"Leaving?" Hermione asked, even more worried when she saw that he was serious. "Leaving where?"

"Well, in fact, I'll be staying right here," Harry said, gesturing to the surroundings with his hand.

"By right here, you mean," Hermione started, and just when she noticed where the road was leading to.

"Hello, Hermione," another voice joined the conversation.

She turned, only for her eyes to widen.

"Magie," she whispered.

"It's good to see that you're no longer jealous of me," Magie said with a smile, taking a seat on Harry's other side.

"You were jealous?" Harry asked, an amused confusion showing on his face. The blush that crept on Hermione's cheeks was all the answer he needed.

"Oh, don't tease her too much about that," Magie stated, swatting Harry on the arm. "It takes a grown up woman to see those kinds of things."

"Hold up for just a minute," Hermione raised her hands to stop the two, now reminded why she didn't love their routine all that much. "When did you find a way to meet Magie?" she asked Harry, "When were you going to tell me?"

"That's just it. I couldn't before," he said quietly, sad that he couldn't explain properly before. "Whatever happened in Godric's Hollow made a crack in whatever she did," he said, pointing to Magie with his head, "Large enough for me to notice some things. But then it started to elude me, and I had to act quickly before I forgot about it. I had to prepare some very important things, and now I'll need to pay the price for it."

"You really need to stay here," Hermione realised sadly.

"Yes, if only for a while," Harry said, gesturing down the road, "People in the City are still getting restless. With this road being the only way to get in or out, I can still keep Magie around. But it takes the both of us to keep things steady. I assure you it's only temporary. Magie left you a note explaining what still needs to be done," he said, hugging her, and kissing her on the forehead.

"Goodbye, Hermione. You know where to find me," Harry's voice stayed with her, even if the image began to get fuzzy. "And, please, take care of the baby. It's really important,"

"A baby?" Hermione woke up with a start, noticing that she was in her laboratory again. "What baby?"

* * *

Snape wasn't happy at all.

He decided to side with the light, and after all that time he spent in the castle, with people outside who would really like to kill him, Potter tells him to get in touch with them?

"Oh no, he doesn't," the man snarled, barging into the room Potter was staying in.

And he froze when he didn't find what he was expecting. The first thing he stumbled upon, were all the toys scattered around the room. His gaze went straight towards the crib, and he couldn't tear it from the child resting there.

There was something strangely familiar in that child. The way it stared back with those dark eyes. What was it about that child? And where did that star shaped scar right over the child's heart had come from? Where did the child come from for that matter.

The supposed saviour of the magical world vanishes from the face of the earth for a month, and this is what he's been doing? Playing with a kid?

Hermione finally caught up with the Potion's Master, and since she couldn't tell what Harry meant, she decided to do the only thing that could work here. She went to the humble bed that stood in the corner of the room, and knelt right beside it.

"Harry, love," she whispered, brushing his hair from his forehead, "it's time to wake up now," she said, and laid a gentle kiss on his temple.

"Professor," Harry said a moment later, and Severus frowned, since the voice seemed to be coming from far away. "What can I do for you today?" the boy asked, opening his eyes, which only added to Snape's puzzlement. Even with his eyes opened, it didn't seem that Potter saw much from this world, his gaze straying to watch something beyond.

"What the hell do you want from me Potter?" Snape got angry again, reminding himself of the reason he was there.

"Even having fallen out of Voldemort's good graces, you still have some connections to him. You could send a message if you wanted. No, not even that. Something more subtle. A rumour that would find Dark Lord on it's own."

"What kind of story?" Snape asked before he could stop himself.

"Wards around the castle are down," announced Harry's ethereal voice.

Snape snorted at that.

"And why would anyone believe in _that_?" Snape asked, shaking his head at the idiocity of the request.

"Because they really are down," Harry said, his voice filling with a laugh even as his expression remained the same. "They have been down longer than you think."

"Then what were the things protecting us?" Severus asked, clearly in shock.

"Seen Sirius, Moony and the Twins lately?"

"Pranks and cheap tricks keeping men that the entire country fears at bay?" Snape laughed beside himself. "What will you think of next?" he muttered, while shaking his head.

"Bring the Dark Lord here," Harry reminded him of the mission that had to be completed.

"Why?" Snape asked, not understanding.

"Because all the pieces needed for his fall are in place. All we need is for him to make that leap."

"No," Severus said, being misunderstood before. "Why do you think that it will be so easy? That you're in control..."

"I'm not," Harry answered. "No one is in control. We control nothing. All we do is instinctively react to things happening around, and try to rationalise them afterwards. The only thing we have at least some influence over, is one simple thing. Whether we are good or bad. You've changed, Professor."

"I guess," Snape replied, slightly thrown off balance by such a sudden statement.

"If you could move back, and do things again, would you do things differently?"

"I would," Severus whispered after a moment of thought.

"Then change is possible," Harry said, his voice showing how tired he was getting. "Have faith Professor, and bring Dark Lord here. Then, we can finally end this."

* * *

AN. I know you know what's coming. The Final Battle scene.


	94. Chapter 94

This is my version of the final battle... sort off. And I know you know what I mean when I say that...

* * *

"Mister Potter, please, don't do this to yourself," Madam Pomfrey urged while she followed Harry through the castle.

Still, the boy wouldn't stop, or even slow down his march.

"Potter, I don't know what you're thinking, but you're in no fit state do do anything right now," Scrimgeour implored, glancing towards his best men in hopes that they could find a way to break that invisible bubble the boy was locked in.

Harry's friends followed him silently as he strode through the castle. They knew that if he had truly tapped into the nearly unlimited source of energy that Hogwart has become, there was nothing they could do at this point. Since, even before that, there was hardly a way to stop him.

"Harry, you don't have to do everything on your own," Dumbledore said his words of wisdom.

At that point, Harry was hardly alone. His march caught attention as he strode towards the exit, and there was an ever growing group marching alongside him, trying to convince him in one way or another.

But even before that, Harry was never alone. That was the main reason that all the pleas fell deaf on his ears. With hundreds of whispers already ringing in his ears, he couldn't listen to any of them.

The only thought in his mind was the job he had to do before he lost himself in the crowd.

Reaching the entrance to the castle, the doors snapped open seemingly on their own, and the last few rays of light shone on Harry's face before the sun finally set.

* * *

Hogwart's...

The shining pillar of light in the dark sea. But for the last month, the darkness crept closer to the castle. First, one cloaked figure appeared, and took a step forward. The next day, two of them came up.

With every next visit, more of them came, encircling the mighty castle, ever so slowly creeping forward, and always watching the seemingly dead stony structure. On that particular day thought, with the last light of the day, a shadow appeared, streatching to the horizon.

The Dark Army had arrived.

A deadly procession of monsters of various sorts followed the man that led them. No, not a man at all. A devil whose story put to shame all the nightmares he had gathered.

Still, there was one who could face such a sight.

The doors of the seemingly empty castle burst open, and a single figure came out to greet the offenders trespassing on those lands. He stormed out, only to stop at the bottom of the stairs to the castle, surveying what kind of challenge fate gave him now.

No longer a boy, Harry Potter stood there in all his glory. The relics that were supposed to have been lost forever weren't lost on those approaching. Ravenclaw's diadem on his brow. Slytherin's locket on his neck. Hufflepuff's cup hanging by his belt and Gryffindor's sword held firmly in his hand. The four founders once again united to protect their creation.

His sharp eyes scanned the approaching enemies, his strong frame not budging under the pressure of so many standing before him.

Then the thunderous sound of steps stopped, the army of monsters reached their goal, and the man leading them opened his mouth...

* * *

"I see you're not hiding like rats, hoping that stone would be enough to stop me," Voldemort said in a whisper that managed to envelop the entire castle, watching as more and more people came out after Harry, only to stop in shock at the sight that greeted them.

"Very well," Dark Lord said with a nod, reaching some kind of decision. "I will give you one last chance. Join me, and your life shall be spared. Defy me, and there will be no hope for you," he stated, still watching the lonely figure standing some distance from the entrance.

There was something odd about the boy, with the way he seemed to be looking somewhere beyond, even now, having all his enemies in front of him. He also seemed to be muttering something, but at this distance, Voldemort couldn't know what it was.

"Draco!" Lucius shouted from the crowd of dark figures, "Come take your rightful place!"

The crowd of murderers roared in laughter when the crowd standing on the steps parted to reveal the blonde boy.

Draco watched all the faces looking at him expectantly, and he sighed, knowing that finally he had to do what he knew he would do at one point. If it was just under different circumstances.

He took a step forward, making some people to drop their eyes to the ground or curse under their breath. Then he took another, and, when he made it to the front of the crowd, he turned left. That on it's own made many, on both sides, frown.

He walked along the wall of faces, until he found one that was smiling. Soon, he was elbowing his way through the crowd, which, taking the hint, parted again to let him pass.

Draco finally reached the girl. That girl he bumped into such a long time ago. The girl that then found him again, concerned if he was truly. The girl he was bothered by when she came to check on him from time to time. The girl that he became fond of, and missed when she wasn't around. The girl which would forever stay his girl...

The young lovers embraced each-other, and, after a single kiss, Draco started whispering into the girls ear, making her go into a wide-eyed shock, and then start laughing and crying at the same time. Those close enough to hear the conversation soon closed the way that they made for Draco, to give the couple at least some privacy, whispering to those around what had just happened.

There was no cheer, at what had just happened. Nor a jeer aimed at the darkness over it's failed try to corrupt one so young. People on the steps simply stood there, a slight smile accompanied by a warm feeling spreading through the crowd.

Only Harry was the exception, standing couple of yards away, seemingly having a conversation with himself, that now also included gestures.

* * *

The Lord of the Darkness wasn't pleased by that. He hissed and spat, and from the sea of darkness he had on his beck and call, he summoned a reminder of his ancestors.

A slithering sound filled the air as monsters nearly eight feet tall emerged. Human torsos with four arms each wavered on snake tails as they made their way up the hill.

The madman tried to flaunt his power by showing something inhabitants of the village haven't seen.

Nagas.

It was hopeless, if the darkness reached so far. Much farther than anyone ever thought.

The monsters armed to the teeth with weapons moved ever so closer to the lone hero standing in their paths. The leader of the pack raised his sword, and was about to strike the saviour of the wizarding world, only to be stopped with a mere word..

* * *

"Brother," Harry whispered in parseltongue, using a strange voice that made it appear as if couple of people spoke at the same time.

The surprise was enough to halt the swing of the great sword, and Harry turned his unfocused eyes to the great half-snake standing before him.

"Our mother is resting here," he continued in the same mysterious voice, "I wouldn't want to disturb her, or add to her grief. She saw enough death of her kind..."

A deep scowl appeared on the scaled face, but the leader lowered his sword nevertheless. He tested the air for a while, and then gave a sharp, piercing hiss. A low rumble from somewhere deep under the ground came as a reply, making his eyes go wide.

Immediately, the entire pack coiled their tails under them, and dropped into something of a kneeling position. Resting their hands on the ground and bowing their heads, the fear of what they were about to do on this sacred ground washed over them.

When the rumbling ended, the pack picked itself from the earth, and the leader gave Harry a polite nod, before turning and leaving. He would spread the word of the grace that met these lands, and would never return from the shame that covered his clan because of his decision. He would never be allowed to meet the Great Snake...

* * *

A grimace twisted the Dark Lords face as the group of half-snakes he thought would be enough to do the job simply bowed before our hero and left, without even making a single strike at the light.

But it wasn't enough of a loss to spoil the devil's plan, and his expression changed when the full moon showed it's face on the dark sky, and howls started sounding throughout the air. He chuckled darkly, giving the order to attack to the beasts that were calling for blood.

Still, the lonely hero stood at his post, being the only thing that separated the mass of werewolves, and a school full of children...

* * *

Harry heard the howl, and the stampede coming his way. Werewolves. Half men and half wolves. But this time the wolf part interested Harry more than the man inside the beast.

With the laws as they were now, he couldn't be sure which creature truly deserved to die. Some of them truly loved the hunt, but some were pushed into this position by the bigots running the country. He could deal with the motifs of the person later, now he had to deal with the beast.

That's why he raised his hand to his mouth, a dog whistle appearing out of thin air. But it wasn't a regular dog whistle. It's tunning had been skewed in a certain way. When he was sure that Magie made sure that Hagrid's dog wouldn't hear it, Harry gave the whistle a soft blow.

* * *

The self proclaimed Lord watched as his hellish hounds sprinted, and his eyes were filled with a mad glee, expecting a bloody rain and scarlet rivers to start any second now.

Imagine his surprise when, without a slightest move from our hero's part, the snarling mass of fur that was the reason for many night terrors simply dropped to the ground. The howls and angry growls turned into quiet whimpering as the monsters clawed at the earth, convulsing in pain as if shards of glass and rusted nails were being driven directly into their brains.

Then it stopped. The beasts were left there, panting heavily. Out of a sudden, the pack jumped to their feet, and lunged forward. They weren't attacking any more, but running away in search of safety. Even if they drunk Wolfsbane potion that night, whatever happened to them just them convinced their inner beasts that the danger they were facing couldn't be overcame, and the only solution was to flee.

But just when they were about to enter the Forbidden Forest, the promise of safety, a hail of arrows pined them to the ground. A herd of centaurs appeared from the shadows, sending precise shots to the werewolves that were still trying to scamper away. Leaving the beasts barely alive on the edge of the forest, the centaurs gave a collective nod to Harry.

Having secured their home from the danger that was about to break in, they stood their post on the edge of the forest. Being at hand, but not getting in the way of our mighty hero.

The Dark Lord raged, seeing his minions being swept aside with such ease. He wasn't pleased at all, and decided that it was time to end it once and for all.

The air soon became filled with the sound of tattered robes flowing on the gentle breeze, as the entire sky was covered with demonic figures.

Dementors had come...

* * *

"Impossible," Snape mumbled, the fear gripping even his heart that was guarded so well throughout most of his life.

"Have faith," someone reminded him of Harry's words, and he turned to see a man who he had not seen before. Still, there was a familiar feeling when he looked at the man's monkeyish face.

"But... how can there be a way?" Snape whispered.

Even if every single person could be able to chase one Dementor away, it still wouldn't be enough. Severus knew as much.

"And to think that you're the essence of Slytherin in these strange times," the stranger said with a shake of his head. "Remember that Harry chose this fight," he added, pointing to what was happening in front of them with his head.

Snape scowled, since he forgot about the incoming death. With that many dementors nearby, he should have been incoherent by now. When he saw the sight streatching out before him, he blinked, his already strained emotions shattering in an instance.

"Are those-?" he choked, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

* * *

Harry didn't even acknowledge the drove of fear incarnate making it's way stright at him.

Instead, he knelt down, running his hand over the grass. When he removed his hand, a sparkingly bright lily had grown there. Soon enough another joined in, followed by many others. A field of lilies appeared where once just simply grass grew, chasing away with it's glow any hint of night.

The demon-spawns stopped their descent, and it was clear that they were about to run. But then a a fierce wind came out of nowhere, picking the sparking petals with it. Soon enough, the Dementors were encircled by a pillar of white. The edges of the whirlwind closed, creating a sparkingly bright orb of light. The petals swirled so quickly, giving the sphere a smooth look, as if the sun itself had came down to earth.

Then the sphere started contronting and twisting in place, shrinking. In a matter of seconds, it was hardly there, and with a last, final sparkle, it vanished completely, taking all the nightmares with it, making it appear as if they weren't there in the first place.

* * *

'Now we can finally deal with the people,' Harry whispered in his mind, sighing, knowing that he could finally let his concentration slip a little. All those converstions around him were becoming unbearable.

'Which ones?' Magie asked, standing right next to him.

Harry glanced at the wizards standing behind Voldemort. He would really like to give them the last chance to reconsider, but he already saw it. They were beyond convincing. They were scared of Voldemort too much. Especially now, when his mask of rage broke, and the methodical killer that hid within all that time came to play. Killing his own people that stepped out of line probably wasn't the best solution, but did a fine job at setting in order.

Then he glanced behind, at all the people in the castle, watching everything happening with fear, anger and whole set of other emotions written on their faces. They were scared, but now, after what they saw, they knew that there was a chance for them.

Finally, he glanced both ways, at the ghostly figures standing in line with him, preparing themselves for what was about to happen.

'All of them,' he finally answered Magie's question.

'You never really told me, why do you do it like this?' she asked, having watched the spectacle that was about to go into it's final act. She knew for sure that he could come up with thousands of other solutions.

'People, among many of their flaws, have this one thing when they're so sure of everything. That wouldn't be so bad if they really knew what they were talking about, but as it is, most of the times they state their oppinions as facts, and keep to that, trying to twist everything to fit their world view,' Harry said, sighing. All the noise around him was killing him.

'If only they could simply say that they don't know, or they're not sure. That they don't have all the facts, and it should be checked or made sure of... Just why it's so hard to show a little honesty?'

'You know how it is, it's the hardest thing to admit that you have a problem,' Magie stated with a smile.

'Yeah, and that's your answer,' Harry answered with a smirk of his own. 'I do it like this to show them that things aren't as they seem to be,' he said, and when he saw Voldemort's minions make their move, he glanced back. 'I think they're ready,' he said, closing his eyes.

'Who is?' Magie asked again, glancing around her.

'Everyone.'

* * *

The thump of thousands of boots agaist the ground was the only sound that filled the chilly, midnight air. All the wizards the Dark Lord managed to bring to his side marched forward. Some of them out of the zeal that remained, even after the initial strikes did nothing to weaver the light. Some out of fear, believing that the anger of the Dark Lord would be any worse than what was about to happen to them.

The rest was bound magically to follow their master's bidding. The Dark Lord finally managed to quell the wayward recruits, and bring them to order. Now the Dark Army marched towards the castle walls, their minds eased by the strenght of their numbers.

Then, suddenly, bodies started rising from the earth. No, the earth itself raised to form the bodies. Clay golems stood there, their features refining to those of a human.

The first line of the assoult halted, only to be reminded of their task by the lashes of the lieutenants marching behind them. Hexes were fired at the statues, but wherever a piece was torn off, it was soon filled out by another pound of dirt.

"Forget the dolls. They're just a distraction" someone shouted from the crowd, and the attack was halted.

The men slipped between the statues that were giving them a unsetling feeling as they passed. Still, the march continued, until the first line bumped into air...

The wizards clad in black robes watched, confused, looking for anything that could be blocking their path. Still, there was nothing between them and a mass of unarmed people standing on the steps of the castle.

"Step back!" came the order, and once they moved couple of steps back, "Breach the wards!" shouted the same voice, and the specialists in the army sent curses created to do just that.

The spells slammed into the air, but there was nothing of the usual about what happened next. The wards didn't collapse, or strenghten themselves in order to survive the assault. Instead, the air broke.

Everyone watched in shock as cracks appeared in air, connecting into a web of small cracks. Finally, chunks of it fell, giving a sound of the broken glass as they fell to the earth, only to disappear a moment later.

When the wall was finally gone, what greated their eyes wasn't the school. Instead, the line of figures stood in front of them, the line they had just crossed. But this time, they were facing their way.

"Idiots!" Voldemort shouted, standing in front of his army, not believing that they got themselves trapped in such a simple illusion.

Still, his troops were too distracted by the people standing in front of them. A man in white-tie wear, whose attributes could make him only Jack the Ripper. A pair of young kids that would seem innocent, if not the hellish smiles on their faces, or the fact that they were playing with a barbed wire instead of skipping rope.

Standing there, one more horryfining than the other, the previosuly faceless constructs did a fine job at scaring all the Death Eaters – murderers and rapists, people without scrupules who were terrorizing the country for the longest time. Even more terrifying was the fact that the figures weren't doing anything, but waiting. They were comfortable simply standing there, making the Death Eaters sweat.

What broke the Dark Army from the stupor was the roar that emanated from behind them. As one, the crowd of previosuly tough people turned, to get the shock of their lives. In the place where previously only Potter stood, now a line of finely armed killers stood alonge side him. Armed to the teeth and their battle hardened bodies covered with scars, they were a scary thing on their own.

But they weren't the only ones.

From all around the castle, the suits of armours were jumping out of the windows, only to land on their feet as if it was nothing, and join the ranks at Harry's side. All the winged statues, gargoyles, and even the gryff that was guarding the entrance to Headmaster's office leapt into the air and circled the battlefield, just like if they were created to do that.

Peeves the Poltergeist grew to gigantic sizes, taking on a devilish look. Beside him, more of the bodies rose from the earth, taking the appearance of Hogwart's ghosts. The Bloody Baron was even more fierce while in a proper body, and beside him, Sir Nickolas appeared, taking the opportunity to cut of his own head off, swinging it wildly around for everyone to see.

The Hogwart's defenders have risen, and wizards standing on the steps was the least the attacking army had to worry about.

Harry watched it all, his eyes once again clear and focused. The world he saw and the real one merged to form something else. With a nearly unlimited amount of magic, and enough minds to controll it all, he could make it happen. At least for a short time...

"Attack," was all he had to say to end it.

The already horrified Dark Army didn't stand a chance to such an overwhelming force. It was a time when each Death Eater decided their own fate. The magical bindings on the foreigners disipated in a flash. Those who fought with the passion were dispatched quickly. Those that tried to run away, scared, were pined to the ground, and had to face their deepest fears when their minds were searched through. Only they could decide if they could pull themselves out of the abyss, or fall into insanity.

But Harry didn't watch any of it. He imagined it in detail enough times to know exactly what was happening. Instead, he concentrated on Voldemort's personal trial.

The man stood shocked, and for the first time in his life, thoroughly terrified. His troops were being decimated in an instant, but that wasn't what made him feel like that.

A young woman dressed in a light summer dress was coming his way.

"Slow, love, slow.  
Time's so fast."

The woman sang to the baby which she carried in her hands. The baby. It was strangely familiar to him. He could feel it, and the way it laughed and reached with it's little hands in his direction tugged at something burried deeply inside of him. He was scared of the feeling he got when he stared into those dark eyes, which carried light he never knew was possible in them.

"Now goes quickly, see  
Now it's past!"

The woman continued singing, taking small measured steps towards him, making it appear as if she was on a simple walk. He stood there, rooted to the floor. The scene seemed to be strangely common, yet he found himself powerless. There was nothing he had control over right there. He knew as much. He could feel it in his bones. He hated the feeling. And that baby still was laughing. The sound ringing in his eyes send shivers down his spine, and he broke into a cold sweat.

"Soon will come,  
Soon will last.  
Wait."

The woman was still couple of yards away, but she seemed to be so close now. So close that he found himself taking a step back. The woman picked the baby into her hands, and extended them, holding the baby out towards him. The baby started clapping and kicking happily, as if seeing favourite uncle.

Voldemort panicked right there, and did the only thing he knew how to do. He withdrew his wands, pointed it at the child and stuttered:

"Avada Kedavra."

For an instance there he had a sense of deja vu over the whole situation and in nearly made him laugh. Then the curse struck the baby, the woman disappeared into a sphere of white light, and everything turned dark for him.

In the explosion that followed, no one really noticed the soft green flash coming from Harry's eyes before he collapsed.

* * *

Harry got the weirdest feeling. It was that feeling when you find yourself in a middle of the room, with no idea why you went there in the first place. But it was stranger. He couldn't figure out... anything. For the first time in his life, his mind was completely blank. Without a thought, an idea or even a voice buzzing somewhere under the surface, needing his attention.

Then the tormented shouts of a damned man reached his ears, and the moment ended.

"No! Get away! Monster! NO!"

Harry turned and saw Voldemort, his skeletal body pressed to the corner of the room, the only shadowed place in the otherwisely brightly lit cottage. Right in front of him, was the same baby, still laughing and clapping happily.

"No! Please, no! Help me!" the once powerful man keep shouting, nearly tearing his vocal cords in the process.

In the middle of it, Harry caught another conversation going on.

"Did you make sure he had enough to eat?" a woman asked, and it made Harry frown. He knew that voice from somewhere, but simply couldn't remember from where.

"I did," replied a voice that could only belong to Magie.

"And did you make sure he went to sleep at a decent hour?" the woman asked again, and Harry turned to see just who it could be.

"I tried, ma'am, but you know how he can be," Magie answered, looking into Harry's eyes as he glimpsed at her when he turned.

"Oh, stop with the ma'am already. It makes me feel old," the woman stated, just when Harry caught a good glimpse of her.

He froze.

"Call me Lily," Harry's mother stated, "But seeing how you are practically a family, you should call me mum or something," she continued with a smile. "That reminds me. Since you didn't need it at all, I doubt that you will need in the future."

Magie nodded, and took a strange locket from underneath her usual t-shirt and handed it over. Harry didn't really pay that much attention to the exchange.

"Mum?" Harry asked, shocked at who he had right in front o him.

"Yes, dea-" she couldn't finish, being enveloped in a desperate hug. "Oh, there, there," she said, patting him on the back as he cried.

Harry was taller than she was, but he still felt like a little child while he hugged his mother for the first time. He thought that he dealt with not having parents quite well, but now, having her right in front of him, made all the years spent on his own come back with a vengence.

"What was that about?" he asked after he got through the worst of it, trying to start a conversation, and get over him breaking down like a kid.

"The locket?" Lily asked, and at his nod, she continued. "It was something I left with you a long time ago. It wasn't that useful, so I guess it's not that important to go into the details."

Harry wanted to ask about it more but then he stopped because his mind started working again and something occured to him.

"Mum, are you really here?" he asked, sniffing a little and cleaning his face with his sleeve.

"I really am, dear," she said with a smile.

"Does that mean I'm dead?" he asked, since that was the only thing that would make sense under those circumstances.

"Don't be silly," Lily said with a snort, while slapping him on the arm as if he had just made a joke. "Since you've been with the little one throughout it all, _They_ decided you deserve to see how things pan out here."

"They?" Harry asked, catching the stress on that particular term.

"I can't tell," Lily said with a smile, and seeing Harry's frown, "Well, it's complicated in the first place. And, beyond anything else, you know..." she said with a slight small, "Dead don't reveal their secrets," she added as if it was the most natural thing.

"I guess I understand," Harry nodded. "So, what is this all about?" he asked, turning to face the scene playing out in the corner.

Voldemort no longer screamed, now simply whimpering in his corner, and looking at the child with a horried gaze.

"The prophecy," Lily stated as if it explained everything.

"The prophecy as in Sybill Trelawney's prophecy?" Harry asked, confused.

"That's the one," his mother answered with a nod.

"But I always thought that-" he started, confused.

"That it's about you?" Lily finished for him. Seeing his nod, she smiled at him. "It is... to a point." seeing his confused face, she sat down at the table, closely followed by Harry and Magie.

"Only after you die you truly see how fate works," she said, staring out the window. "The first two lines of the prophecy truly were about you. Severus had to hear them and report it to Voldemort to-"

"He did what!" Harry exclaimed, not aware of that fact before.

"Does it really bother you?" Lily asked, watching her sone carefuly.

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but then stopped to think about it. The fate, the chain of events... It could have gone differently, into thousands of millions different paths. But somehow he was here, having a chat with his mother. If anything else, that was worth all the trouble.

"I don't know," he muttered finally, "I guess not as much as I thought at first," he said with a sheepish smile.

"That's my boy," Lily answered with her own smile, happy that Harry could rely on his splendid mind even in this kind of situation. "That had to happen to set things in motion. The first two lines are about you, true. But the rest of it..." she said, turning to watch the child rolling on the floor.

"The baby?" Harry asked, confused. "How can that be?"

"Voldemort put his soul in things mostly. The only other piece to have a living host was placed in a snake. The man degraded his own soul. Treated it as if it could caged, placed in storage, or ordered around like he did with the snake," Lily said with a frown, but then turned to the baby with a loving expression.

"That baby on the other hand was placed under human care, your care, Harry," she said, beaming at her son. "It was able to coexist with another person, see the world through your eyes," she said, giving a wink to Magie. "And, most of all, learn the most important thing there is in the world,"

"What is that?" Harry asked, so deep into the story his mother was weaving that he found himself out of ideas.

"Oh, so you don't know the words of John and Paul?" Lily asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"You mean the apostles?" Harry asked.

"No, Harry," Lily answered with a melodic laugh that tugged at Harry's memories. "The Beatles," she answered, making Harry think that his character had much more his mother's traist than other's were lead to believe.

"All you need is love," his mother intoned, then turned a serious eyes on him, while still smiling. "Love, Harry. That's the only way to bring souls together."

"Love?" Harry couldn't believe it, "But I don't know anything about love... All I did was to take care of him, sometimes play with him and-"

"Gather soul pieces from protected hideaways, and place your sanity on stake to make that child whole again?" Lily asked as if it was a simple thing, "You mean small things like that?"

Harry didn't know how to reply to that.

"That _is_ love, Harry," Lily said, looking at her son fondly. "Whenever you place others' needs before your own, do something for them, no matter how small it would be... That's love. That's why there are different ways to love. Love of a parent. Of a child. Love of a friend, brother, wife... We do different things to show just how much we care about others. Just look at what you did. You didn't simply protect your own friends. You took care of an entire community, bringing them together, mending fences, striking a better future... You know off and have much more love in you than you would ever know."

That only left Harry in a pensieve mood. Not knowing what to think of that, he turned to the pair in the corner.

"So, how does this end?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"No one knows," Lily stated with a shrug. "This is kind of a purgatory Voldemort picked for himself. He will stay here with his better half, and one of them will come out whole."

"Because _either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives_..." Harry recited.

"Yes, Harry. Souls are meant to be whole," Lily said with a smile that wavered a little, "It's just sad. To be afraid of light, friendship and love. To think that he forsaken them all, treating them as unimportant."

"People are scared of the most ridiculous things," Harry commented, and after a moment of prolonged silence. "So, what I do now?" he asked, finding a calm feeling overwhelm him at finding that this chapter of his life was closed.

His mother smiled at him, stood from the table and went to the door.

"What do you want to do?" she asked with a smile, opening the doors.

Harry was just about to answer, when the noon sun flooded the room, allowing him only to see the sparking white.

* * *

It was over.

No one could believe it.

Death eaters were either dead or unconcious, sprawled all over the Hogwart's grounds. The only thing that was left after Voldemort was a crater that had been left after the explosion.

The statues and suits of armours were slowly returning to their proper places, their moves heavy and slow as the magic drained from their bodies. The previously summoned people now stood frozen still, as if someone created thousands of statues right in front of the castle. With the gentlests of breezes touching them, the statues started falling appart, turning back to the dirt they came out from.

Still, that picture didn't give people peace.

"HARRY!" Hermione screamed, sprinting down the hill to the place he lay.

She skidded to a halt, dropping right next to him, and rolling him so that his head lay in her lap. Her outburst seemed to tear everyone from their shock, and soon enough, a growing crowd surrounded the pair, leaving some space to give them air.

"Hermione..." Neville stepped closer to the girl that was sniffing audibly. "What is it?"

She mumbled something, her sniffs becoming sobs. Neville stepped closer, kneeling right beside her, and heard her mutter one sentence over and over again.

"Why won't you wake up?"

* * *

AN. I guess, seeing how this chapter is lenghty, that I can finish the story in one following chapter. Ninety-five chapters seem good enough for me.

But wait! There's more!

* * *

Scene One – like always it doesn't need to be taken seriously, as in, actually included into the story.

* * *

There was still some time before Lily had to go back, so they decided to have a pleasant walk through the woods surrounding the cabin.

"It haven't really occured to me before," Harry started, "But no one knows what you did to bounce back that killing curse."

"It was Love," Lily said with that mischievious smile.

"Come on, mum, throw me a bone here," Harry said with a roll of his eyes.

"Well, as long as I don't go into specifics..." she said, weighting her chances. "Fine. I developed a spell that would inform me if you wanted something. You know, even if you were in a different bedroom, it would wake me up... Or your father, depending whose turn it was. I guess, when Voldemort became the only person in the house, the spell switched to him as a designed person to take care of you. Here's what I can't tell you, but I believe that instead only telling him that you were in danger, the two spells connected in an unexpected way, and the Killing curse got dragged back down the connection..."

Lilly stopped, noticing that Harry wasn't walking beside her anymore. She turned, seeing him standing there, frozen, getting red in the face.

Then Harry snorted, immediately dropping to the floor going into a laughing fit. Lily watched him for the longest time as he rolled on the floor.

"Would you care to include me into the joke?" she asked, as he simply lay there, panting.

"Think about it..." Harry wheezed between gulps of breath, "The mighty Lord Voldemort vanquished by a Nanny!" he said, starting to laugh again.

"A magical nanny..." Lilly muttered with a giggle, "Well, if you say it like that..." she said before joining her son in laughter.

* * *

Scene Two – some of you heard about this pressure, to gravity, to black hole, to another universe thing probably. I don't know a lot about it, but it gave me an idea.

* * *

Being a dementor wasn't an easy life.

Being despised for simply existing and requiring food to survive. It was tough on it's own, but since the Potter kid, that life only got so much harder.

Bob the Dementor was simply counting on some decent meal, but wasn't expecting this. He watched the four strange creatures dance around him, and his head was killing him from all the muttered half sentences they were spewing. And, geeze, what with the colours. If he had eyes, he would certainly rip them out already.

Instead, he had to live with Dementor's senses which made taking in light and warm colours very unpleasant.

He glanced around, watching his brothers being chased by a miniature, blue creatures with white hats on top of their heads. Or being involved with a set of drawn characters.

He didn't understand what did they ever do to deserve this kind of life.

At least Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Laa-Laa and Po didn't do any bodily harm to him...

* * *

AN. Nothing like a dementor's _hell_, right?


	95. One year and then eighteen more

My story doesn't end like J. K. Rowling's did...

* * *

AN. I just now got the idea for the cover of this story, and since the image thing is up and running, I would like to add that to the story. A final piece to mark it's completion. The problem is that I don't think I'll make it good enough. If anyone out there feels like it, write me, and I'll describe what I'm thinking about.

* * *

Hermione made her way through the crowd, when a headline on the newspaper-stand caught her eye. She bought a copy, and read the article as she went on her way.

**How blind can we be?**

_by Rita Skeeter_

Hermione blinked when she noticed that the paper wasn't a gathering of news, but was filled with just this one article. After a short introduction, a reprint of another story had been added to give the readers perspective. A story that, even after all this time, made Hermione scowl.

It was a story of the final battle, but not how it really happened. Instead, it was shown how people would like it to be.

True, his way of magic could be perceived as if his enemies simply dropped around him without him doing a single move, but still... His majestic frame? Never wavering? And all the Founder's relics being with him?

Hermione shook her head, disgusted by the way the original story went. It was as if people were trying to create another Merlin. Someone who would be there to protect them from their own stupid mistakes. Someone who would be responsible for every major event that occurred. And someone who they could put the blame on when everything went south.

Put in such a hopeless position, it was no surprise that you either died a hero, or lived long enough to become the villain. Also, she now knew exactly why Harry said so many times how people are just mindless sheep, and why he never bothered to explain, or even speak to them all that much.

At least they got it right the second time around.

Rita ridiculed the wizarding world for ever believing such a tale. Harry wasn't the spectacular hero dressed in emblems to show his might. He was a boy straight out of bed, nearly incoherent because of what was happening to him. The moment when he planted the lilies? He didn't simply knelt down. He almost ended sprawled on the ground, so unsteady on his feet he was. It made a completely different picture.

People wanted a hero to save them, but instead a broken down boy barely holding it together had to be the one to protect them. Stating the truth outright just made people see how wrong it was.

Skeeter pointed it all out, seeing that nearly all of the magical community was there to see it, she couldn't understand who could have believed such a fallacy. She wondered for whom the show was cast. Who would feel better because of it...

But she didn't stop at that. Pointing all the flaws in the original description of the Final Battle was just a beginning to a much greater thing.

Rita followed, ripping to shreds all of the things wizards were used to. Obliviating muggles. Relying on specialized wizards to do every single thing for them, when a simple charm would be enough to solve their problems. Of course, she spent quite some time describing the corrupt, unreliable and inept government they were listening to.

A gathering of self-important, power hungry bigots who thought they were the centre of the world simply because their ancestor did something great with his or her life some five hundred years ago... Then she added a quick apology to those so very few that actually were trying to do something good with what they had.

She took the world wizards lived in, the fairy tale land locked in a bubble they constructed for themselves, apart, showing all it's mistakes and fallacies, and then simply threw it all out the window.

Hermione was actually impressed. It seemed that without her Quick-Quote-Quill, Rita Skeeter was an outstanding reporter. Her spot on remarks and her wit building the pressure as the story progressed, kept Hermione in rapt attention, with the need to know what more could be found behind another turn.

So much, that she nearly crashed into a desk she was walking towards all this time.

"State your business..." said the witch at the desk, not looking from the stacks of paperwork on her desk.

"I'm visiting-" Hermione started, but when the witch heard the voice, she glanced up, and a small smile appeared on her face.

"I didn't notice it was you. Go right in," the witch stated with a nod, not bothering with the proper protocol for the visitors, simply returning to whatever she was doing before.

Hermione smiled herself. Visiting... yeah, right. It was more like she lived there.

After Harry collapsed, all the wizards and witches gathered there wanted the best possible care for him. Immediately, he was taken to St. Mungo's, where all the specialists from all around the world came to figure out what exactly was wrong with the saviour of the wizarding world. And the only thing they could be sure of, was that Harry was asleep.

Now, thought, it would be much more like a magical hibernation. There was almost to no need for potions strengthening potions or regenerative draughts, as his metabolism slowed down to a near complete stop, and his magic took care of him quite well on it's own.

The medical community of wizards around the world stood still at those news. They simply had no clue what was happening. Without any symptoms, injuries, traumas, or even without his state changing ever so slightly, they simply couldn't tell what was wrong to him.

To everything around, Harry Potter was simply fast asleep, and wouldn't wake up.

Hermione, on the other hand, knew. It took her five minutes to figure out, when she had his head in her lap and reached out to him with her mind only to find nothing at all. The road to his mind he had left for her before was gone, with black canvas obscuring everything that happened within his mind.

At first, Hermione mourned. It was yet another time when Harry did something, and she was the one left to worry sick about him. She wouldn't leave the seat beside his bed. She wouldn't speak to anyone...

But then she caught herself, and knew that this wasn't what he would like for her. So, started treating it as another one of Harry's pranks, or lessons, or whatever he would call it as. On that day she smiled for the first time since what felt like a really long time, kissed him on the forehead and went outside. Talked to people. Helped around the hospital and enjoyed herself. She finally learned how to live with Harry, and, more importantly, all the outlandish things he did.

Because she knew that Harry wasn't gone. He was with Magie doing whatever they did in there, and she had to simply wait for him to come back to her. He always came back to her.

Finally reaching his room, she pushed the door to his room...

That thought,as always, made her stop and smile. His room. It was more like their room. With him in bed, and her spending most of the time in there, it was like a small apartment than a simply hospital room. Small kitchen, magical refrigerator, dining table to entertain all the guests... It seemed that everything was possible as long as it was for Harry, or in this case, for Harry's girlfriend.

Sighing, she went inside, going around her daily routine. She set the stack of books she prepared for herself right to the one she finished the last night. Frowning at the fact that she didn't set the books from last night properly like she usually did, she did it right, to make sure that everything was there.

Next she went to the refrigerator, unpacking the groceries she bought. She frowned again, seeing the nearly empty box of milk she left. She was getting forgetful or...

Then she stiffened, her brilliant mind, sharpened further by all the years she spent with Harry, kicked in, and a feeling that something was off settled in her. She turned, slowly, scanning the room for all the small details that made her sure that thing weren't exactly as she left them. Then her eyes fell on Harry's bed, and she froze.

It was empty.

She stood there, watching the sheets threw back as if someone just stood up from their afternoon nap. She stared at it, and her mind simply couldn't perceive what it meant. Until:

"Hello, Hermione."

The voice made her jump, and she turned her head so sharply that it hurt. Seeing him sitting there on the windowsill, like Magie used to do, usually would make her frown at his antics. Or roll her eyes while thinking that he sat there, watching her all this time, only to startle her like that.

Usually... Having watched him lie in his bed for nearly a year, and now going to the sink to leave the empty bowl after the cereal he just had wasn't your usual situation.

"What?" Harry, asked after quickly scrubbing the bowl. "Crookshanks got your tongue or something?" he asked with a smile as he dried his hands.

Then his expression changed to one of deep thought as he walked the couple of steps to stand in front of her, standing there, open mouthed, with wide eyes slowly filling with tears.

"No," he said while watching her with that slight smile she always loved, "I must have been mistaken, ma'am. You can't be Hermione," Harry commented while raising his hand to brush her hair out of her face, and get a better look at her. "Or you're simply much prettier than I remember."

Feeling his touch on her skin finally broke Hermione out of her stupor so abruptly that she nearly fell. But Harry was there to catch her. He held her close to him while she regained the feeling in her legs that went numb. Feeling his arms around her compelled her to sneak her arms around him too, holding him for her dear life.

The tears that were filling her eyes finally fell, and with them, the dam burst, and all the emotions she kept in check all this time. She cried into his chest while laughing at the same time. She hugged him to make him stay, while at the same time she told him how much of a prat he was. Finally she kissed him. She kissed his lips, neck, jaw...

Harry quickly found that holding a girl on the brink of a hormonal breakdown was a very hard thing to do, and soon enough he was stumbling back, hard pressed to keep the balance for both of them. He ended sprawled on his hospital bed, with Hermione on top of him. He only got one glimpse of the glint that lit in Hermione's eyes at that, before she began to show him just how much she missed him.

Magie just gave one knowing smile before she turned and locked the door to make sure that no one would disturb the two young lovers. She vanished while shaking her head, knowing for sure that it would be a long time before anyone else would be able to come into the room.

* * *

"Say it again," Hermione asked him, lying in Harry's bed, with her head resting on his chest.

"Hermione," Harry whispered into her ear for what seemed the hundredth time, and like it always did, it made the witch draped over him give that little, content sigh.

"I don't know why," she murmured, with her eyes closed as she listened to his heart, "But I always loved you saying my name."

"Because you're _my own_," he whispered, while running his hands through her hair.

Hermione gave another content sigh, then frowned. She caught herself doing that, and was surprised at the familiar sound ringing in her ears.

_'My own,'_ she thought to herself, _'my own'_, she imagined Harry saying, _'my own sounds like mione,'_ she followed that train of thought.

"And she's the one means Hermione," a little whisper in her ear finished her thought for her.

Her eyes snapped open and she turned to stare at Harry with wide eyes.

"No you didn't..." she whispered, trying to remember just from when Harry calling out her name made her heart skip a beat.

"Always," he said staring back into her eyes, without a hint of his joking attitude in visible.

Hearing that, Hermione kissed him with such passion, that Harry knew it would kill him if it got any further. Fortunately, she was as tired as he was, and after they run out of air, she settled back against him.

"So, what took you so long?" Hermione asked after couple of minutes of comfortable silence, still with her eyes closed as she listened to his heart.

"You really want to talk about it now?" Harry asked, thinking of their state of undress... among other things.

"Would you like to be anywhere else right now?" Hermione asked, and, already knowing the answer, she didn't even look up.

"Not in a million years," Harry said, kissing her on top of her head.

"I guess it was because of the sun," Harry said, starting his story.

"The sun?" Hermione played along, asking with a confused smile.

"It's stuck in the highest position, and doesn't set very often. It happens, but it isn't common. Without even a storm coming, or anything else to indicate that time passes, it's hard to tell just how much time you spent in there. It's hard to imagine that almost a year had passed. To me, it felt like just couple of days..." Harry said, then twisted his head slithly to the side, making Hermione look up at him. "But now that I think about it, all the things I did really couldn't be done that quickly."

Glancing at Hermione, and seeing that she was waiting for him to continue, he started closed his eyes and tried to remember what exactly happened.

"I made them too good," he said, talking about his imaginary friends. "At first they were supposed to be just shadows of people, their representations. But I wouldn't stop at that... As they gained in experience and refinement, they stopped being shadows, and became people of their own kind. But they were flawed just as their predecessors. They thought that they knew everything there is, they wanted to be the ones in control, and, soon enough, they started weaving their own stories..."

"A mind filled with possibilities thinking about opportunities?" Hermione thought about the idea and winced, "It's no wonder you had a hard time thinking straight."

"Yeah..." Harry said with a silent nod, thinking of all the strange behaviours that were the effect of that. "That's why I gave them a chance at life. Gave them bodies of their own. But, with magic being all about intent, I haven't fully calculated how people in the castle would be included in the mix. All of those emotions. Fear and anger... Everything people around were feeling added itself, and it made them come out wrong. Twisted..." Harry sighed, remembering the row of murderers standing where he thought his friends would be.

"I guess instead of simply knowing life, they got the brunt side of it, and felt the ugly side of it as the first glance. I don't even know if I should be sorry or happy because of that. It sure made them reconsider the whole notion of taking over, but The Town..." Harry sighed, shakin his head. "I found it in ruins. The shack the baby stayed in had disappeared completely for obvious reasons. Slytherin's marsh did the same thing. I guess, or I would like to hope, that Salazar finally found some peace, and figured he could finally pass on," he said with a slight smile.

"As for the rest, it was damaged beyond repair. A town filled with people that suddenly had no idea what to do... So I did what I usually do. I talked with them, got to know them better. Well, I got to know myself better by that. I helped them build new homes. I worked and played with them. Laughed and cried. I guess I made them understand, and over time, I sorted through the problems filling my mind," he said before frowning.

"I had to add one more thing though, a graveyard." he stated

"A graveyard?" Hermione asked, surprised by that.

"Well, it's what it is, even if it doesn't look like that. It appears to be a park, but within it there are things that are left after those that passed away."

"You mean your thougts can die?" Hermione asked, incredulously.

"I guess..." Harry replied with a shrug, "You know how life is. It's just like a vacation. You find yourself in a strange new place, without a clue what to do. Then you find your favourite things, places, people. You make couple of fun photos along the way. But when you've got enough memories, and just before the routine starts to get bothersome, it's time to go back home. I guess, now that they understand it, some that find that they outlived their stay decided to simply vanish," Harry said, getting the mental picture of the place.

"Well, not simply... They left mementos of themselves. A tree with a heart and pair of initials carved into it to remind me of a pair of young lovers that used to rest under it. A bench on which children used to play, only to grow into teens who had their dates near the pond, and grew old together to sit on it, and feed the swans swiming nearby... Small things like that, to show that even when they aren't present, they were there, and left a mark,"

"I thought you weren't that big for monuments," Hermione repeated herself, reminded that they had this talk before.

"And I told you that I dealt with many problems I had before. That's what I've been doing throughout all this time. Then one day Magie came and kicked me out."

"And that's today," Hermione finished.

"Yes, that's today," Harry said, then asked a question of his own. "And how about you? Any grand changes in the world?"

"Surprisingly, no," Hermione replied, "It seems that wizards are small enough community that, even with many coming in from abroad, all the things that happened in the wizarding world didn't do that much of a ruckus. Any spell damage had been called as a 'sudden wave of vandalism' by regular newspapers, and someone proposed a plan to buff out the security. Of course, they got a promotion or something like that when everything stopped out of a sudden."

Then she got a serene look on her face.

"But you should see Hogwarts now. I don't know just how much power had been gathered in the castle, but once you unleashed it, the change was drastic. The Forbidden Forest took the brunt of it, while the trees sapped the vital forces from the earth. It's no longer dark, cold and empty. Now it turned into sort of jungle. Flowers bloom everywhere, and animals watch you from every bush. It's no longer Forbidden you know. Now they call it Enchanted, and magical zoologists and herbologists still can't believe at the multitude of wildlife they can find there.

"That must be lovely," Harry answered sleepily.

"Oh, and the Elves left," Hermione rambled on, one thought occurring to her after the other.

"They did?" Harry asked, suddenly fully awake due to the surprise.

"Yeah. One day they were there, and another no one could find a trace of them. The room they were staying in was completely empty, not a leaf left after that plant that Dobby created. But you can know that they're still around," she said, smiling at the thought.

"How can you know?" Harry asked, knowing that there was more to it.

"Whenever something happens, someone is rescued without a logical explanation or something like that, there is always a white lily blooming somewhere nearby," she said, stretching a little.

Harry smiled at that. He knew that the elves would learn Dobby's secret at some point. That being commanded to do something was one thing, but to do it out of the goodness of your own heart, while no one demanded it from you, was something else altogether. Seemingly, they still did what they did before, serving humans while remaining unseen themselves. But they had they had their free will again, and it changed everything. Harry was actually interested how much time would pass before the stories of caring wood-elves would reaper once more.

"What about the wizards?" Harry asked next, breaking the silence that was stretching out, during which Hermione simply couldn't make herself spoil that content smile that bloomed on his face.

"Well, that's another story altogether," Hermione started once more, knowing exactly what he was asking about. "Most of the ministry building, magical gathering places like Diagon Alley, and everywhere where either our troops or Death Eaters had been, had been completely demolished. Ministry personel estimated that it would take them years to set everything back as it was before. That, accompanied by the fact that most of the wands and components to build them along with potions ingredients or the like had been used in the conflict, there wasn't that much of a wizarding world left."

"And what did they do?" Harry asked, sensing that Hermione was just building up the drama.

"They proved to be lazy gits," she said with chuckle, making Harry lost on the joke. "Instead of trying to rebuild, they picked the easier way. They joined the mundane world. It seems that being locked with muggles for an entire year, talking with them and working alongside them, was enough to let most of the wizards pass as one," she said, while poking Harry in the ribs.

"Yeah, who would have thought about that," Harry replied with a chuckle.

"Having friends and working experience, they quickly charmed some documents to let it appear they haven't just arrived in this world and quickly found some jobs. Would you be surprised if I told you that Ron won a major chess tournament recently?" Hermione asked, glancing at him.

"Yeah, I might have pointed that kind of career to him a while back," Harry replied to her stare. "What about our other friends?"

"I think that biggest news is that Draco and Megan got married recently," Hermione stated, her gaze somewhere far away as she moved to Harry more closely. Seeing her do that while mentioning that particular subject wasn't lost on Harry. "It was a lovely ceremony, and they're sorry you couldn't be there. It's kind of because of you that they're together."

"Yeah, what can you do..." Harry whispered while thinking about something else.

"You know," Hermione started quietly, "Lots of people came to see you," she said. Not hearing a word from Harry, she understood that he was waiting for her to continue. "They came in here, and talked just how much they wanted to thank you for whatever you did. The strange thing was, that they all thought that different things compelled you to do them. I've been waiting a long time to ask, but why have you been doing all those things?"

"I can't say..." Harry muttered, staring at the ceiling.

"Really, you wouldn't tell me, even-" Hermione started in a little sad voice.

"No, Hermione, I really can't say," Harry said, silencing her. "That's just it. I don't know. Everyone I know, they are so sure about their convictions. To me, all the things I've done was a way to figure _it_ out. The thing that made me into what I am."

"I see," Hermione sighed, then smiled as a thought occurred to her. "You shouldn't mention it to Rose though, as she is still explaining your antics to everyone," Hermione stated with a broad grin.

"She's doing what?" Harry had to ask, lost in his thoughts to the point where he barely caught her last sentence.

"Well, you didn't think that your show of wandless magic would go unnoticed, did you?" Hermione asked with a rised brow.

"I kind of hoped that it wouldn't" Harry said with a smile of his own.

"So, the wizards abandoned their world because they had to find a new kind of living, but they're still waiting for answers about what exactly happened that night. It's kind of funny that they wouldn't talk to Neville and Luna, since they're just kids, so it was decided that Rose would be the first one to talk to everyone. Since then Neville and Luna have been teaching those that were deemed worthy by Rose."

"By teaching you mean talking in puzzles, being annoying and thoroughly unbearable?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Yeah, that's what I mean," Hermione replied with a laugh of her own.

"I guess I'll need to tell them just how proud I am," Harry said with a chuckle, but then stopped and said, "So, I guess that means that I'm not done changing the world..." he sighed.

"I guess you're not..." Hermione sighed along him. "Are you ready for it?"

"Maybe after a good night's rest and a decent meal," he said while that mischievous glint lit in his eyes again. "I never knew you could wore me out like that," he said, receiving a slap from smiling Hermione, which only made him grin.

* * *

"Now where was that train again?" Harry asked aloud, standing in the middle of the King's Cross station between the platforms nine and ten, wearing a confused look and scathing the top of his head.

"Come on dad! It's right here..." James, his eldest son exclaimed, while his brother, Sirius, rolled his eyes at their father's anticks.

"Oh, but of course it is," Harry looked at the modern that was ready to depart any minute now from the platform ten.

"Okay, boys," he said, kneeling down in front of them, "I know we've been through this before, but whenever you need something, your sister is there for you. I appreciate that you want to find answers on your own, but, please, let's have at least one year where I won't have to go there and rebuild a part of the castle, right?"

At the question, the boys exchanged a look, and then nodded sheepishly.

"We'll try," they said in unions, but Harry already knew that it was hopeless. Naming them after two of the Marauders probably wasn't the smartest thing to do. Apparently, wreaking havoc run in the Potter family.

"Fine, get going, and remember to say goodbye to your mother," he yelled while the two junior pranksters sped off to find a suitable compartment. Harry winked to Magie as she strolled after them, making their trunks just a little lighter than they really were.

With them out of sight, he scanned the crowd, for a moment catching sight of Draco with his wife, tending to their own children. Their eyes met for a moment, enough for them to exchange nods before he lost track of them.

Some way from them, he finally caught sight of Hermione, talking with their eldest daughter. She was conceived that night when Harry regained conciousness, and was the most perfect gift for when her parents finally got married. Now, seventeen years of age, she was considered a prodigy in whatever she took interest in. Hermione and Harry for the longest time couldn't agree from whom she got that, but decided that she got the best of both of their traits.

Harry sighed, reminding himself of what exactly happened since he woke up such a long time ago.

Much have changed in the wizarding world. Throughout the first week, no one could believe the story that Harry told, but the more time passed, the more people understood that it was the truth. Slowly, people started to learn just what it took to become a wandless mage. But before even one of them cast first of their spells successfully, they understood why in all those fairy-tales, wizards always lived in secluded areas.

Immediately, Hogwarts, Hogsmade, and all of the magical gathering places were abbandoned, as wizards spead themselves far and wide across the country. With most of them staying at Hogwarts, the growt rate of all the magical plants and animals not only didn't slow down, but increased greatly as they stoped using their wands.

To lessen the effect they had on the world, they had to disperse, and hide themselves in the crowd. That was also the moment when magical community all but stopped existing. All of their documents, lands and assets had to be transfered to the mundane records to allow them a steady life in the muggle world, without fear of something ever coming up.

Ragnok couldn't hold his glee when he finally was given the promised challenge. His clan quickly gained respect in the Great Council. Joining economy, documentation of what could be called two entirely different countries, and reintroducing once charmed lands into the general population was a great challenge in it's own. But Gringott's goblins did it in stride, allowing for the process to go smoothly, without anyone outside the trusted circle being any wiser of what was happening. They gained nearly unlimited respect for what they've accomplished... and a certain percentage, of course.

Even Hogwarts became an official boarding school, even if only few ever received their acceptance letter. Most of the times, when strange things begun happening to their child, it was a friendly neighbour who they had known for years that informed them of the fact that magic actually did exist, and helped them to get used to that kind of life.

Even the education of young wizards changed. It started on the train ride itself, where the students took the train that could get them nearest to Hogwarts. During that train ride, their task was to find their own kind, to think of just who might be another wizards traveling on the same train. At their destination, all they had left to do was to find the proper carriage that would take them to the castle itself.

Somehow, be it wit, luck, or the help of their newly acquired friends, every single student was able to make the trip without the need of assistance of the wizards that were ever present near them.

There were no longer classes in the castle. No books or written assignments. Instead, adult wizards who were doing their own research were teaching the youngsters their own way of magic. When they mastered that, it was up to each boy and girl to decide what they would want to learn, and they didn't even had to be forced to do that, going on adventures with their imaginary friends and inventions they always dreamed of staying at their sides.

The peculiar thing was, that even without the soul piece in him, Harry could still talk with snakes. It was a surprise, because Dumbledore theorised that it was due to that soul piece that he had the ability. The mystery was solved when, once wizards became proficient at wandless magic, all those forgotten or lost gifts resurfaced once more. Talking to snakes was the least that the world had to worry about, as actual seers, among other thing, started walking the earth.

Harry smiled when he understood. While using wands, the body was strained as it was. But with wandless magicians having an ample of power within them at any moment, the body could once again reactivate the latent abilities the genes passed on for millennia allowed them. He doubted that he inherited his Parseltongue abilities from his father, because there had been no know associations between his, and Slytherin's line in know history. That only led him to believe that his mother had much more magical blood in her than anyone believed before.

The search for information became common thing in the following years. It was fortunate that Harry made all of the items he had uncovered during his stay at Hogwarts, the Founders relics, the Deathly Hollows, even the Chamber of Secrets. All of that was available to those who wanted to learn. But there was never a book describing what each of them did, or how one had to manipulate magic to develop the same results.

Each and every person decided on their own just how determined they were to uncover the mysteries of the might of Gryffindor's Sword or cleverness behind the Ravenclaw's Diadem. Or how Helga Hufflepuff was the first one to determine what killed people around her, and charmed her cup to be first ever sanitary station.

Harry knew for sure that he enjoyed his research on the Slytherin's locket the most. An item that was meant to be a sort of pensieve. It allowed the person to relieve a certain memory as if it was actually happening around them, giving them one more chance at a meeting with their loved ones.

It was also customary to take a Trip when one became eighteen years of age. One simply left their home, taking only small rucksack of things, and headed out, going wherever their feet took them. It was a soul searching trip, where a young wizards met sights and people he never knew of before, learned from them, sometimes even taught what he already knew, and understood what he truly cherished in life. That, along foreing wizards coming to Hogwarts, was also the way that wandless magic slowly spread itself over the world.

"Excuse me, sir, but you must be Harry Potter," a child's voice torn Harry from his thought.

"Yes, I am," he said while turning, but he froze, his eyes going wide when they met the boy standing in front of him. "Thomas," he whispered, wacthing a perfect copy of a boy who receaved his letter from Dumbledore in a muggle orphanage such a long time ago.

"It's Tom, actually," the boy said, looking at Harry strangely, "But how did you know?"

"You look just like a Tom," Harry answered absentmindedly, having another question of his own.

"Tell me, Tom, were you born on the end of July?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, sir. Twenty-ninght to be precise," the boy said, watching Harry curiously. "How do you do that?"

"You see, a wizard never reveals his secrets," Harry said mysteriously.

The boy blinked, and then laughed at Harry's stage act. That stopped Harry in his tracks. He corrected himself, for the boy was nothing like his former self. That honest, warm laugh, and the light that shone in the boys eyes was enough to tell Harry that he wasn't talking with his once upon a time enemy.

"Well, sir, I just wanted to say that I've heard a lot about you, and wanted to thank you for all the things you did," the boy said, watching Harry seriosuly, but still with that kind smill on his face. "I hope I can learn something from you," he added, then, hearing a soft call through the noisy crowd around him, he truned and looked at a woman that simply couldn't be his mother, standing near a man that had to be her husband.

"I guess I have to go now. Goodbye, Mister Potter," the boy said with a wave, vanishing in the crowd.

"I guess you've already learned something from me," Harry muttered with a smile, watching the boy run up to the couple and talking animatedly with them.

A long forgotten fact came floating to Harry's mind. They thing his mother told him about Fate, and the intricate way in which it deals with people. Was that it?

Harry did his part, taking care of the unwanted baby that was given to him. And now, it happened again. Was that really enough? People showing affection and love to an orphaned boy... A simple thing that could change everything, Harry thought, watching the couple kiss young Tom on his head before he entered the train.

Harry shook his head. Whatever happened, the prophecy has been finally fulfilled. Indeed, only Tom could vanquish Voldemort. Take different choices in life, and not allow the darkness to appear once more. He would watch the boy, just like any other wizard in the castle, ready to help and mold the young minds, but he already knew that they could expect great things from that child.

Harry sighed, knowing that once he would think everything through. But now he didn't feel the need to. He had his head clear, and knew exactly what was the most important thing in life. His home with his family inside, and all the fun they could ever have.

Come what may, they always had each other, and dealing with the small stuff, they always managed to pull through, and everything would sort itself out.

Harry smiled, turning and walking to find Hermione, thinking that for the longest time, everything was fine in the world.

* * *

AN. The End...

It isn't perfect, but I've been trying to piece it together throughout the entire day, and everyone around constantly distracted me from finishing. I'll probably rewrite it at some point, but that's that for now.

Anyone who would like to help me clean the story up, just write me.

And, I guess, I never really asked for it... so I won't start now. If you don't feel like reviewing, don't do it. Instead, if you feel that you liked the story, share it with someone else.


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